The Cloverleaf Inn
by SilvorMoon
Summary: Atsushi has it made - he's married to the love of his life, and he's going to live forever in heavenly surroundings. Even so, he can't help missing his old home. When his beloved inn becomes a bone of contention between a pompous mayor and a jealous god, Atsushi knows it's time for a little divine intervention. (Takes place immediately after Justice and Mercy)
1. A Letter from Home

Atsushi, newly made god of mercy, set aside the book he was reading, gazed out over the Heavenly City, and sighed. It was a truly beautiful afternoon. The sunlight glittered on the golden roofs of the houses below the Palace of the Gods and flashed off the waves of the eternal ocean. Even from this height, on the balcony of his palace suite, he could see the colors of flowers in the City's many gardens. Overhead, the sky glittered with stars and planets, casting an ever-changing light over the world. Atsushi had been living in the Palace of the Gods for almost two weeks now, and the view still took his breath away.

"Is something wrong?" asked a voice nearby. Atsushi turned and smiled at his companion. He and Kinshiro were sitting on the balcony, reading companionably together while they enjoyed the city's eternally perfect weather. Between them was a small table, which held a pot of tea and two cups, along with a plate of assorted snacks. A game board, evidence of earlier amusement, occupied the rest of the table space. The two of them were still enjoying their honeymoon, and that meant they had time to be lazy all afternoon if they felt like it. Atsushi had a feeling that this was not something Kinshiro did very often, and he hated to be the one to bring down the mood.

"It's nothing," he said. "Don't worry about it."

Kinshiro's frown deepened. "Are you sure? You sounded... wistful. Is something bothering you?"

Atsushi wanted to say that no, of course not, he couldn't be happier. It wouldn't have been entirely untrue - he _was_ happy here. Just a few days ago, he had been nothing more than a simple innkeeper, living in a small town few people ever visited, and hoping for little more than to make enough profit to keep him going for another year. Now everything was different. He lived in a literal palace where anything he could ask for could be his in an instant, a paradise where he was free to gratify every desire to the limit of his capacity. If he wanted intellectual stimulation, there were vast libraries where he could wander contentedly for days without seeing the same book twice, concert halls where the greatest performers of the ages acted or sang or played music every night, sprawling galleries of art and gardens full of sculpture. If he craved more material pleasures, he had a new set of rooms perfectly tailored to his comfort, a wardrobe full of clothing fit for an emperor, and anything he could possibly want to eat or drink would be delivered to him with no more than a thought. If companionship was what he wanted, he knew he was more than welcome here. He had plenty of new friends among the other gods who were only too happy to explain things to him, to offer advice, to show him around his new home, or just to keep him company. Best of all, he had Kinshiro, the love of his life. Even now, seeing him there at his side, with the lights of the celestial sky making his silver hair and piercing eyes shimmer, gave Atsushi a feeling of warmth and gratitude.

"Nothing's bothering me," said Atsushi. "It's just, well... I know it's silly, but I guess I'm a little homesick."

Emotions flickered across Kinshiro's face - sympathy, concern, anxiety. Atsushi thought he could guess a little of what he was thinking. It had amused and charmed him to know that beneath the great god Aurite's calm, unruffled exterior was a seething mass of insecurities. Kinshiro panicked so easily when the world stopped behaving according to his rules. Just now, Kinshiro was worried that Atsushi was having second thoughts about this whole business, that he was hoping to find a way out of it all and leave him, perhaps even ask to be reincarnated and sent back to a simple human life.

"It's not silly," said Kinshiro. "I can... understand, just a little, how you must feel. Even I miss the inn sometimes."

Atsushi smiled a little. "Even the part about washing dishes and sweeping floors?"

"Even that," Kinshiro agreed. "In some ways, it was simpler."

"That is part of it," Atsushi agreed. "It's such a big responsibility, being a god. I still don't know if I'm going to be up to it."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Kinshiro asked.

"I don't know," Atsushi admitted. He thought about it for a while. He knew he could never really go back home, not with the way things had changed, but still...

A thought occurred to him.

"My sister," he said. "Does she know that I'm... I'm..."

"Dead? A god?" Kinshiro suggested. Then, after a pause, "Married?"

"Any of those."

Kinshiro shook his head. "I don't think so. It would take time for word to get to her."

"Can I tell her?" Atsushi asked. It had hurt, leaving without being able to say goodbye to the only living family he had.

"I don't see why not," said Kinshiro, after giving the matter due deliberation. "Akoya went and told everything to his maid, and I imagine a sister has a lot more right to know these things than a mere maid does."

Atsushi had to smile a little at that. He had actually met Akemi a few times by now: the woman who had once been Akoya's maid, then his high priestess, and now served as chief among his attendants, and who waited on him with a mixture of amused tolerance and genuine fondness. Describing her as a mere maid was hardly doing her justice.

"Can we go now?" Atsushi asked eagerly.

Kinshiro shrugged. "I don't see why not. We have some free time."

"You're the best!" Atsushi bounded up from his chair to embrace his husband tightly. "I love you so much."

Kinshiro blushed, looking extremely pleased. "Whenever you're ready."

"Then let's go!" said Atsushi.

He seized on Kinshiro's hand and pulled him to his feet. In a blink of green light, the two of them were gone.

* * *

The house where they arrived was a handsome one, the largest of several town houses crammed together in one of the older parts of town, a bit old-fashioned but still well-maintained and dignified. It was a house that signified old money, plus a desire to stay in town where the action was rather than retreat to somewhere less crowded and noisy. In short, it was the home of a well-to-do merchant from a long line of merchants. Atsushi had only visited it once before, around the time of his sister's wedding, when he'd stayed there a few nights to help her prepare for the festivities and then with the cleanup afterwards. Now he and Kinshiro rematerialized in the alley between it and its nearest neighbor and considered how to make his approach.

"I don't think we had better spring this on her all at once," he mused. His sister was a practical, down-to-earth woman who would take almost anything in stride, but he wasn't sure she was ready for a situation quite _this_ strange.

Kinshiro nodded. "I will follow your lead on this."

Atsushi had to smile. Kinshiro was approaching this with the same solemnity he used when approaching the judge's bench. Of course, that was probably what this was, from his perspective. He was about to meet his husband's family face to face for the first time, and he didn't know if they were going to like him. As a god, he could make them obey him, possibly even make them respect him, but he couldn't be sure they'd _like_ him.

"Don't be nervous," Atsushi said, patting him on the shoulder. "She's going to love you almost as much as I do."

Kinshiro gave him a weak smile.

The two of them walked around to the front of the house and climbed the short set of steps to the front door. Atsushi knocked, feeling the first butterflies building inside him. So much had changed in such a short span of time, he had no idea yet how he was going to explain it all, but...

The door was opened by a pretty woman with the same dark hair and warm brown eyes as Atsushi's. She beamed as she caught sight of her guests.

"Atsushi!" she exclaimed, sweeping him into a hug. "What in the world are you doing here?"

Atsushi laughed and returned the embrace. "Visiting you, what else? Can we come in?"

"Are you kidding? Get in here, you little brat," she said affectionately, hauling him inside. "I haven't heard from you in months! You've got to tell me everything you've been doing." She cast a quick look over Atsushi's shoulder. "You come in, too. Any friend of my brother's is a friend of mine."

She hauled the two of them into a pleasant little sitting room. Atsushi remembered it from his previous visit, but it had been new then. Now it had been inhabited for a few years, and had picked up the personal touches and threadbare patches that came from being lived in. Atsushi allowed himself to be placed on the sofa and watched with some amusement as his sister more or less shoved Kinshiro into place next to him.

"So, Atsushi, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" she asked, settling into the chair across from them.

Atsushi felt his face warming, but he rose to the occasion, saying, "Kinshiro, this is my sister, Suzume. Suzume, this is... well, this is going to be kind of a surprise, but... this is Kinshiro, my new husband."

There followed several seconds of the sort of high-pitched exclamations of the sort only sisters were capable of. Atsushi bore the noise and accompanying hugs stolidly until she settled down again. At last, Suzume stood back to turn her attention to Kinshiro. He squirmed a little under her evaluating gaze.

"Well," she said at last, "you certainly did well in the looks department. And it looks like he's taking good care of you."

She reached out to touch the material of Atsushi's sleeve, and he felt himself blushing slightly. He was wearing the divine equivalent of "hanging around the house" clothes, modest to the point of being drab compared to some of the things he had in his new wardrobe. Some of those he found slightly embarrassing in their opulence, and he wouldn't have worn them at all if he hadn't felt the need to impress people into remembering that he was really a god now. He needed all the moral support he could get in that area. Even so, the shirt he was wearing now was of the finest linen, beautifully embroidered at the hem and cuffs with delicate designs of oak trees and leaves, and was far beyond anything he could have afforded in his old life.

"You could say he's pretty well off," Atsushi admitted.

Suzume smirked. "Married for money, did you?"

"What? No!" Atsushi yelped.

Suzume laughed. "I'm teasing! Honestly, you're so sensitive, Atsushi."

"Well, I didn't," Atsushi mumbled. "I didn't even know he was important until just before he asked me to marry him."

"And you did it without even inviting me?" Suzume asked, raising an eyebrow. "What, you just couldn't wait?"

"It was kind of a spur of the moment thing," Atsushi admitted. "Anyway, we had already been talking about getting married, and the actual high priest of Aurite was staying at the inn, so we figured as long as we had him handy..."

"You don't have to make excuses to me," said Suzume, smiling. "I'm just happy you finally met someone who suits you. I want to hear all about it..."

She chattered on, but Atsushi had stopped listening. Kinshiro had just nudged him and glanced towards the front door. Even with it closed, Atsushi could sense a small disturbance coming their way. He wouldn't have noticed it without Kinshiro pointing it out to him, but apparently being a god came with a few extra senses, and he could definitely tell that there was someone out there with legal matters on his mind. He began to grow uneasy.

Seconds later, there was a knock on the door.

"If anyone asks, I'm not here," Atsushi whispered.

His sister looked at him quizzically.

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" she asked.

"I can't explain just now," Atsushi hissed back. "Just answer the door!"

The knocking came again, louder this time. Suzume shot him a quizzical look, but she stood and went to answer the door. The moment her back was turned, Atsushi and Kinshiro went invisible and trailed silently after her.

"May I help you?" Suzume was asking the officious little man at the door.

"I'm looking for a..." He consulted a paper. "Miss Suzume Kinugawa?"

"That's my maiden name," she said. "I'm married now. What can I do for you?"

"I have a message for you," he said, passing her a folded paper sealed with red wax. His sour face softened into something a little more compassionate. "And may I just say that I'm deeply sorry for your loss."

"Ah... thank you," she said mechanically, and slipped back into the house.

She looked around, apparently confused by her disappearing guests. She took a few uncertain steps into the room.

"Hey, guys? Where did you go?" she called.

Atsushi quickly stepped behind her and phased back into view. "Over here."

She jumped and whirled around. "Atsushi, you startled me! What's the idea, sneaking up on me like that?"

"Sorry," he said. "So, what's in the letter?"

She gave him a suspicious look, but she pried off the wax seal.

"It's from the town clerk back home," she said. "It says... it says..."

But Atsushi could see clearly what it said. He began to think that he may not have planned this trip quite as much as he should have. Suzume scanned the letter quickly, then looked back at her brother with an accusing expression.

"This says you're dead," she said.

"I guess it does," he agreed.

"Did you fake your death?" she demanded.

"No!" he said, holding up his hands in protest. "It wasn't fake!"

"Then why..." she began, brandishing the letter, and stopped. She blinked at him. "Wait. What do you mean, wasn't faked?"

Atsushi felt himself blushing. "That was one of the things I came to explain to you."

"So, what? Are you a ghost? No, you can't be," she corrected herself. "I touched you - you're solid. You're _warm_. How can you be dead and still up and moving around like always?"

Atsushi cast a helpless look at Kinshiro. "I don't know how to explain."

But Kinshiro specialized in sorting out disordered things, and this situation was no different. He stepped calmly forward.

"Ma'am," he said politely, "do you remember the story of Pearlite - how he was a mortal man until he was lucky enough to find favor with the gods, and became one of them? Well, I am a god, and I've chosen to favor your brother."

"You're a god," she repeated. "You can't be a god. I mean, you're not. You're in my living room."

"I assure you," he answered calmly, "that does not preclude me being a god."

"This is Aurite," Atsushi explained, as gently as he could. "That's why I couldn't tell you right away. We've been in the Heavenly City for the last couple of weeks, and, well... a lot has been going on."

Suzume blinked at him. "So... you're an attendant?"

"No," said Kinshiro. "He's a god."

Suzume stared at him. Then she turned and stared even harder at Atsushi, who gave her a sheepish grin.

"Surprise," he said.

"I don't believe this," she said. "I mean, no offense, Atsushi - you're a good brother and all that - but really, a god?"

"It surprised me too," said Atsushi. He cast a fond look at Kinshiro. "Apparently it helps to have friends in high places."

Kinshiro smiled back. "It wasn't my doing."

Suzume watched this bit of byplay with a small smile. "Even so, I would like to repeat my statement. Atsushi's a good guy, but I'd really like to know why he ended up as a god. For that matter, I'm still not convinced that _either_ of you are gods. If this is some sort of strange practical joke, I wish you'd let me in on it."

"We can try to explain," said Kinshiro.

So for the next couple of hours, over several pots of tea, the three of them hashed over the events of the previous few weeks. Atsushi did most of the talking - about finding Kinshiro unconscious in an alley, taking him home, giving him a job at the inn. Kinshiro filled in most of the details on the divine angle, but he seemed to understand that this was Atsushi's explanation and was willing to stand aside and let him give it. Atsushi carried most of the narration, all the way up to an account of his wedding - his sister was very interested in that part - and of his daily life in the Heavenly City.

It was surprisingly difficult to talk about that part. He could tell her about having lunch with En every day - well, what he called lunch, and what En considered breakfast. He could talk about seeing Io, Ryuu, and Akoya teasing each other as they relaxed in the city gardens. He could talk about the palace's immense maze of a library, about the many pools and fountains of its public bath, about his own cozy new rooms, but at the same time, there were things he realized he couldn't begin to explain. There was the exhilarating afternoon when Kinshiro had taught him to shape-shift, and they had spent hours swooping through the air as eagles or racing through forests as deer. There was the evening when the two of them had sat on a rock in the endless ocean and watched a row of softly colored moons rise over the water like immense pearls being drawn across a jeweler's tray. He couldn't even talk about his day-to-day work of watching the human race and occasionally handing out second chances, or of the mornings spent at the judge's bench weighing the crimes of the dead and deciding whether they deserved peace, punishment, or paradise. It was all too strange, too far removed from the human norm to be believable.

It reminded him a little of when his sister had first married and moved to the city. She had written him long letters about her experiences - all the new and wonderful things her new husband had introduced her to. Atsushi had not been able to imagine, say, visiting a theater. He had read the letters anyway, because she was his sister and he loved her, but reading them made him feel she had done more than just travel a few miles away. Now he was realizing that he'd traveled further yet, and he didn't know quite how to bring her with him.

"It's funny," she said during a lull. "These are gods, but you talk about them already like they're old friends, like they're no different from the crowd who used to hang around the Cloverleaf."

"Well, they aren't, really," said Atsushi. "I mean, they are my friends. They're just like anyone else. It's just their jobs are really important. They've all been so kind to me - they make me feel like I belong there."

His sister appeared to mull that over.

"Well, I still don't quite get it," she said, "but as long as you promise to visit once in a while, I guess it's all right."

Atsushi smiled. "Every chance I get."

"Good," said Suzume. "Now, how about some dinner?"

They stayed for dinner. Atsushi honestly didn't see any way to get out of it at this point, and anyway, it had been years since his sister had cooked dinner for him. It was also fun watching Kinshiro trying to navigate his introduction to the rest of Atsushi's family. Suzume's husband came home after another hour or so, and the children came home from school, and the house became very lively as everyone reacted to these unexpected guests. By agreement, Suzume said nothing at all about gods, only that her brother had come to visit and introduce them all to his new husband. Kinshiro was cagey about his background, managing to give the impression that he was some sort of minor political functionary without specifying exactly which court he belonged to. He made a hit with the children by discreetly producing toys from who-knew-where and handing them out. After that, it was plain that Uncle Kin was going to be a welcome guest any time he wanted to show up. They all sat around the big dining room table, making polite conversation, while Atsushi enjoyed the unique sight of his normally abstemious husband drinking beer.

"I can make tea if you'd prefer," Suzume said.

"No, no, this is fine," Kinshiro assured her hastily. "I'm grateful for your hospitality."

Atsushi tried to stifle his amusement at that. Aurite's law discouraged the consumption of alcohol on the grounds that it lowered inhibitions and caused people to behave in an unrestrained and undignified manner. Kinshiro himself rarely drank anything but tea. Even so, Atsushi had seen other gods engaging in recreational drinking, most memorably at his own wedding feast, and he knew full well that Kinshiro or any other god could have drained the barrel dry and shrugged off the effects with no trouble at all. Atsushi hadn't learned that trick yet, but En had promised to teach him one day when Kinshiro wasn't around.

When the meal was over, the group scattered to different parts of the house. Suzume's husband slipped off to his study to unwind for a while. Kinshiro ended up playing with the children, serving as referee over a game of their own devising. Atsushi doubted any of the children had a clear idea of what the rules are, but that didn't seem to stop Kinshiro from intuiting them perfectly anyway. Atsushi smiled, watching his niece and nephews scramble around and sometimes over the stolid Kinshiro.

"He's good with kids," Suzume murmured, coming to stand next to her brother.

"It's nice," Atsushi agreed. "I don't think he's ever really had a family before."

"He's doing a good job so far," Suzume replied. "The kids don't behave nearly this well for me most days."

Atsushi laughed. "He has that way about him."

"I'm still feeling a little weird about all this," said Suzume, "but it seems like you two are happy together, and that's what really matters to me. You're going to come by and visit again, aren't you?"

"As often as I can," Atsushi promised. "And if you ever need me, call. I think I'll be able to hear you."

"I'll take you up on that," she promised. "Now, all we need to do is figure out what's going to happen to the inn."

Atsushi stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"It was mentioned in that letter," Suzume replied. "Something about how I'm the heir to the property now, and I need to come get it sorted out. I can't run it myself, so I suppose I'll have to sell it to someone. I'm not sure to whom, though. It can't just be anybody."

Atsushi shook his head. "No, you're right - we can't just sell the Cloverleaf to any old person. It's too special for that."

"On the other hand," she replied, "I'm not sure how I'd get to Binan to deal with it. I've got a family to think of. I can't just leave my children behind for the weeks it would take to get this sorted out."

"Couldn't you get Kinshiro and me to do it?" Atushi asked.

Suzume fixed him with a look. "Won't that look a little peculiar, you showing up when they think you're dead?"

"Well, I wouldn't have to do it personally," said Atsushi, blushing a little. "Kinshiro could do it. Everyone in Binan just thinks he's a busboy. We could say that after I died, he went through my things and found out where my nearest living relatives were, and that's where he's been all this time - looking for you to tell you what's going on. You can send him back with a letter authorizing him to manage the transfer of rights to whoever we decide should take over the inn."

"That's actually not a half-bad idea," said Suzume thoughtfully. "Let's get your man over here and talk it over with him."

Atsushi nodded and turned towards Kinshiro. "Hey, Kinshiro, could you come here a minute? Suzume wants to ask you something. No, Sachiko, you need to stop pulling your uncle's hair now. You can play more in a little while."

Kinshiro escaped the clutches of his newfound family and went to consult with Atsushi and Suzume. Much to Atsushi's pleasure, Kinshiro actually seemed to think his plan was a good one.

"I should have no problem acting as a go-between," he agreed. "Or, if I prefer to stay behind the scenes, I can have one of my attendants act as your factotum."

"Help me write the letter, then," said Suzume. "I figure if anyone would know the correct legal words, it's you."

It took several drafts, but in the end, they had a letter that Kinshiro declared would stand up to the most strenuous legal test, written out in Suzume's best handwriting, signed and witnessed by a pair of cooperative neighbors. When it was all written up properly, Kinshiro folded the note neatly and tucked it into a pocket that probably hadn't been there before he'd decided he needed it.

"Thank you," he said to Suzume. "Atsushi and I will take care of this right away."

"Don't rush off," she replied. "For one thing, my husband will ask questions if you don't at least stay the night."

"I wouldn't want to impose on your hospitality," Kinshiro murmured.

"It will be all right," Atsushi assured him. "Anyway, we don't want to get back so fast we make the people in Binan wonder how we got there."

"That's true," Kinshiro allowed. He smiled slightly. "And you want to spend more time with your family."

Atsushi smiled back. "They want to spend more time with you, too."

Kinshiro looked surprised at that. "Do you think so?"

"What do you mean?" Suzume asked. "Of course we like you. The kids adore you. Like it or not, you're family now."

"Well, then," he said slowly, "I suppose we could stay a little while longer. Just for tonight."

"Great!" said Atsushi.

He started back to the playroom, where the children were playing with their toys in the slow, distracted way that meant they were really waiting for the grownups to finish what they were doing so they could get back to the important business of playing.

"That took forever!" Sachiko, the youngest, complained.

"I wanna play knights and dragons!" middle child Jiro shouted.

"Okay, but you have to be the dragon," said Hiroto, the eldest. "I'm gonna be the knight."

"So what are we going to be?" Atsushi asked.

Hiroto looked him up and down.

"You can be a wizard," he said magnanimously. "Uncle Kin is the horse."

Kinshiro looked at Atsushi. "Should I be affronted?"

Atsushi laughed. "No way. That's an honor. You should be flattered."

"I thought you might say that," said Kinshiro with a sigh.

Atsushi just laughed. He watched as Kinshiro obligingly got down on all fours so the children could take turns scrambling onto his back and riding him around the playroom. Kinshiro's solemn expression never once wavered, but all the same, Atsushi thought, it looked almost like he was having fun.


	2. A Copper for the Old Man

Enkaku slumped in his chair and woefully regarded the dish of mushrooms at the end of the table. There was something about the climate in Binan, with its cool shadowed forests and mineral-rich soil, that produced top-quality mushrooms. Many of the local specialty dishes incorporated them, whether as part of a sauce, as additions to a stew or savory pie, or just on their own, served up as they were here with butter and herbs. Since Enkaku's father was the mayor, they had the pick of the crop. This plateful was still hot, sizzling invitingly and sending up wafts of fragrant steam.

"May I have some mushrooms, please?" Enkaku asked meekly.

His father looked up at him. "Don't be ridiculous. You don't like mushrooms."

"I do, really! I eat them all the time."

"Nonsense," his father scoffed. "The last time I gave you mushrooms, you made a face and spat them out."

"I was just a little kid then! I didn't want to eat anything then but bread and jam!" Enkaku protested.

"Well, I'm not going to give you food that you're just going to waste," said his father, spooning sauteed mushrooms onto his dish.

Enkaku considered pointing out that he was an adult now, just turned twenty, and could presumably be relied on to know what he did and didn't like to eat. He could have reminded his father that he'd been eating grilled skewered mushrooms at the fair not so long ago, or that he had been a regular buyer of beef-and-mushroom pies at the Cloverleaf for years. He was really going to miss Atsushi, who had been a good man and an even better cook. The food at the Mountain's Arms had never held a candle to Atsushi's. Enkaku sighed.

"I'll just have some eggs, then," he said resignedly.

Enkaku picked at his eggs and toast. There was bacon, too, but he'd already learned his lesson about that. A few months ago he'd made the mistake of saying a particular batch had been soggy and undercooked, and ever since then his father had been upbraiding him about his irrational dislike of bacon. In another ten years, he thought sourly, there would be nothing left he was allowed to eat.

"So did you have any plans for today?" his father asked.

A dangerous question. Enkaku thought about this for a while.

"I'd thought I might visit the stationer's," he offered. That was respectable enough. Besides, although Binan did not have a book store as such, sometimes the stationer would also have a few books for sale. He also had a nephew who worked the front counter sometimes, and who was attractive and pleasant to talk to, and just possibly respectable enough to be seen with the mayor's son. That counted for a lot.

"Well, that's all right," said his father.

Enkaku heaved a small relieved sigh.

"However," his father continued, "you can't do that just yet. I have other plans for you."

 _Of course you do._

"You might not have heard," said his father, "but the owner of the Cloverleaf Inn has unfortunately passed away."

"I know," said Enkaku softly. "He was my friend."

"Nonsense," said his father briskly. "He was an innkeeper. He was outside your circle. What reason would you have to interact with him?"

There was absolutely no way to answer that question without putting himself even further in the wrong. Enkaku settled for nibbling on his toast and trying to look non-confrontational.

"Anyway," his father went on, "I've been going over the paperwork, and I've just about got it settled for you to take over the inn.

Enkaku sat up with a jolt. "But... but..."

His father beamed. "I knew you'd be excited. It's a wonderful opportunity for you, and for the family."

"But I don't..." Enkaku started to say that he didn't want to be an innkeeper, realized that was pointless, and finished, "I don't know how to be an innkeeper."

"You'll learn," his father said confidently. "It's such a useful career. That inn gets all sorts of business from out-of-town merchants. You'll be able to make a lot of useful contacts."

It was on Enkaku's mind to point out that there was more to running an inn than just making contacts. He shoveled another forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"Well?" his father persisted. "Aren't you excited?"

"I don't quite know what to say," Enkaku hedged.

"Well, never mind. Just go down to the town hall later and fill out the paperwork," said his father, "and then go by the Cloverleaf and see if you can do something about that squatter."

Enkaku tried not to grimace at that. What was he supposed to do about that, anyway? The most he could do was to ask the man very politely if he'd consider going somewhere else. That had already been tried by people more persuasive than Enkaku.

"I'll see what I can do," he mumbled.

"Excellent," said his father. He polished off the last few bites of his breakfast and inspected the dishes on the table.

"They always make too much," he muttered. He gestured to a servant. "Here, take these away. Maybe the cook can find something else to do with them."

Enkaku watched with longing as the dish of mushrooms, barely touched, was carried out of the room. His father stood up and began walking away as well. As he left, he glanced down at Enkaku.

"You're getting too thin," he remarked. "You really need to eat more."

* * *

Atsushi and Kinshiro appeared just outside the familiar front door of the Cloverleaf Inn. Atsushi looked up at it hungrily, as if he hadn't seen it in years instead of only a few days. It looked, he thought with a pang, rather dark and forlorn. In all his years, he'd never seen the inn empty like this. Even in the foulest weather, on those days when not a single customer showed up, there would at least be a lantern lit inside and smoke coming from the chimney. Now there was no sign that so much as a beetle was living there.

Kinshiro looked up thoughtfully at the empty building.

"At any rate," he said, "no one has done anything damaging to it yet."

"There is that," Atsushi agreed. He began walking slowly around the perimeter of the building, reassuring himself that all was as well as it could be. The herb garden was looking much better than he'd expected. Someone (perhaps a kind neighbor?) had been weeding and watering it in Atsushi's absence. The firewood pile was lower than Atsushi remembered, but then, his last day on earth had been a hectic one, and he might well have burned through more wood than he'd realized. Even if someone had been stealing, who was he to begrudge them a little wood? He didn't need it. On the whole, though, the building had withstood its temporary abandonment surprisingly well.

He was investigating the back of the building, the side that looked out over the forest, when he felt a prickle on the back of his neck.

"Hey, Kinshiro," he said, "is it just me, or does it feel like someone is watching us?"

Kinshiro looked around, seeming more interested than alarmed. "No one mortal can see us. That doesn't mean some of the local spirits might not be watching, though."

"Is that bad?" Atsushi asked, toying nervously with his glasses.

Kinshiro gave him a reassuring smile. "Probably not. A place this far into the wilderness probably has a lot of nature spirits living around it - possibly even some of the Old Ones. This is the sort of out-of-the-way place they tend to turn up."

Atsushi nodded at that. "My grandfather met a Dwarf, once. And there's a story that when we first opened the mines, a dragon came to check it out, but it went away when it figured out we were mostly mining copper."

"Dwarves are a possibility," Kinshiro agreed. "We might have even stirred up the local crossroads god."

"Do we have one of those?" Atsushi asked. He'd heard of those, of course, but he'd never considered that there might be one in Binan. Somehow, he'd always imagined that they spent their time on lonely roadways in the middle of nowhere. "We barely even have crossroads."

"It doesn't have to be an actual crossroads," said Kinshiro. "Most any man-made structure that isn't actually inhabited will do - walls, gates, bell towers, pavilions, anything like that. Most decently-sized towns have at least one."

Atsushi nodded, digesting this bit of information. It made him feel rather proud, he decided, to think that his little town was still good enough to rate its own personal guardian god. "So why doesn't he come out and say hello?"

Kinshinro smiled thinly. "I am Aurite, and you are my consort. If the king had ridden his chariot through Binan, would you have come out and said hello, or would you watch from a safe distance until you knew for certain that he was willing to chat?"

Atsushi was forced to admit that this was a point, even if he wasn't sure he liked the idea of being ranked so highly that even other gods found him intimidating.

"Let's go inside," he said.

The two of them slipped through the back door, without the bother of opening it. The inside of the inn was dark, and Atsushi paused a moment, not so much to let his eyes adjust as to try to absorb the fact that the inn was empty in the middle of the day. He walked around slowly, taking things in. Yes, everything was as he'd left it, all the tables and chairs in their proper places, the remains of a fire in the fireplace, the little shrine to Sulfur in its niche on the wall, all the mugs hanging neatly on their hooks. He frowned a little.

"Kinshiro," he said, "how much time has passed in the human world since we left?"

"About the same as it has for us," said Kinshiro. "Maybe a little less. Why do you ask?"

"Because there's no dust in here," Atsushi replied. "There aren't any spider webs. Someone has swept the floors and put all the things away that we didn't bother cleaning before we left. I mean, maybe some friendly neighbor tidied it all up for us out of respect, but who's been coming in here and dusting? Even the windows are clean."

"You're right." Kinshiro was turning slowly in place now, taking everything in. "Someone has been here. Recently."

There was a creak on one of the upper floors. Atsushi jumped and looked nervously at the staircase, but Kinshiro put a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Whoever it is," he said, "he can't see us, and he can't hurt us. Come on - we'll sort this out."

Atsushi nodded and regathered his courage. He started up the steps with Kinshiro close behind him. The upper floor, like the main room, was spotlessly clean, but it was not entirely dark. From beneath one of the doors on the rearward-facing side of the building, a thin sliver of light showed. As Atsushi stood and listened, he heard another creak, and then a grating sound, as of someone shifting a chair on the rough wooden floor. Annoyance filled him. Who did this stranger think he was, moving in on Atsushi's home territory? Without thinking, Atsushi stormed straight through the door to give this interloper a piece of his mind.

And stopped short. The person occupying the upstairs room was a pleasant-faced young man of about Atsushi's own age, dressed in austere black with a hint of gold trim about the cuffs and collar. He was just settling down at a desk, apparently getting ready to write a letter. Atsushi stared at him.

"Arima?" he exclaimed, and then, realizing that Arima couldn't see or hear him, quickly materialized and tried again. "Hey, Arima, it's me!"

Arima gave a jolt, nearly oversetting his inkwell, but when he looked up his face was alight with smiles.

"Atsushi!" he exclaimed. "I _am_ glad to see you."

He sprang to his feet to embrace Atsushi like an old friend. Atsushi hugged him back. They not have known each other more than a few weeks, but after you had died for someone and then had him perform your marriage ceremony, certain protocols could be relaxed.

"I'm glad to see you too," said Atsushi.

"As am I," said Kinshiro, phasing into view behind him, "even if I'm not sure what exactly you're doing here."

Arima disentangled himself from Atsushi's embrace to stand back and bow to Aurite.

"My lord," he said respectfully. Then, somewhat to Atsushi's surprise, he stepped forward and embraced Kinshiro as well. Kinshiro seemed rather flustered by this, but also pleased. He even raised his arm, somewhat awkwardly, to pat Arima's shoulder a few times before pulling away. Atsushi grinned. Apparently being ruler of the gods didn't offer a lot of opportunities for spontaneous hugs. Arima stepped back, looking pleased with himself.

"So what _are_ you doing here?" Atsushi asked, before awkwardness could set in. "I would have thought you'd be back in the City of Seven Pillars by now."

"Ah, well," said Arima, looking uneasy, "I suppose you could say I'm protecting the inn."

Atsushi blinked. "Protecting it? From what?"

"That depends on who you ask," said Arima. "Why don't we go downstairs, and I'll fix us all some tea and tell you all about it."

This suggestion was accepted by everyone. Atsushi had a shrewd notion that Kinshiro had been missing Arima's particular knack for tea-making. Within a few minutes, all three of them were sitting around the prep table in the kitchen, sipping tea from chipped mugs and eating apple tarts.

"I really couldn't do this without the support of the locals," Arima was saying. "The food would have run out days ago, but they've been slipping me things through the back door, as it were. Everyone seems to agree that the situation is unfair, but I'm the only one in a position to do something about it."

"What _is_ the situation?" Kinshiro asked. He'd been pushing his apple tart around on its dish for the last few minutes without tasting it.

"The long and short of it is," said Arima, "that the mayor wants to take over the Cloverleaf."

"That's news to us," said Kinshiro. "Our impression was that Atsushi's sister received a message from the town clerk telling her she needed to come here and see to the disposition of Atsushi's property."

"I expect the town clerk acted without orders," said Arima. "My impression is that he's been asking the mayor what to do about it for some time, didn't get an answer, and finally took matters into his own hands. Certainly the mayor wouldn't have let him send that message if he'd known about it. He wants to turn the business over to his son."

"What? But he can't do that," said Atsushi. "I mean, it belongs to my sister now. She's the one who inherits. She'll probably sell it or rent it to someone, but nobody has the right to take it from her without her say-so."

"I agree completely," said Arima, "but Mayor Sousa doesn't see it that way."

Kinshiro frowned. "What other way is there to see it? The law is very clear on who inherits, and it isn't him."

"The way I understand it," said Arima, "if you go back far enough, this building, or at least the land it stands on, used to belong to a particular family. At this point, the inn itself has probably been added to, renovated, and repaired so many times I doubt if so much as a nail of the original building is still here. Be that as it may, the original inn was constructed by this family and passed down through it for some generations, but they eventually died out. As it happened, when the last of that family finally died, the inn had a busboy and general pot-scrubber..."

"A job I know well," Kinshiro murmured.

"...who had been doing most of the work for the aging owner already," Arima continued, not missing a beat. "When the old owner died, the busboy took over the business. No one was surprised or objected because the young man was a fixture around the place already. That man was Atsushi's great-great-great... well, I've forgotten how many generations it was. A distant forebear, in any event. The point is, Atsushi owes his ownership of the inn to him. The problem lies in the fact that he never officially inherited the inn. He wasn't a relative, even by adoption. He never paid anyone for ownership of the inn, and he wasn't named in the deceased's will. I don't there ever was a will. He just took over because no one else wanted the job and it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. The mayor contends that since Atsushi's ancestor never had any legal right to the inn, neither has Atsushi, and therefore the property belongs to the town."

Kinshiro frowned. "That isn't right."

"I know it isn't," Arima agreed. "I checked. Your law and Sulfur's both agree - a property that goes unclaimed for more than seven years becomes officially ownerless, and can be freely taken by anyone who wants it, unless someone else with a prior claim can prove that there has been some deception or other dirty dealing involved."

"What does that mean?" Atsushi asked, a little befuddled by all this family history and legal talk.

"It means you can't steal someone's diamond necklace, hide it in your cow barn for eight years, and then claim it's yours," said Arima. "And in this case, it means that if your ancestor held the inn in good faith for seven years and no one came forward to claim it, which is what it sounds like happened, then legally it _is_ yours and there shouldn't be anything anyone can do about it."

"Then why are they trying?" Atsushi asked.

"I believe there is an opportunity for profit involved," said Arima. "But the dubious legality of the situation is why I'm still here and the inn is still unclaimed. I don't think anyone is really willing to try any shady dealings as long as I'm here looking over their shoulders. Ostensibly, I'm just here keeping looters away until someone actually claims the inn, but everyone understands what sort of looters I'm here to dissuade." He looked eagerly at Kinshiro. "Have I done all right?"

"You've done flawlessly," said Kinshiro.

Arima glowed at the praise. "I live to serve."

"So what do we do now?" Atsushi asked. "I mean, he's obviously not going to accept Suzume's letter, but we can't just let them take the Cloverleaf. It's..." He held out his hands, at a loss.

"It's home," said Kinshiro decisively. "We have a right and a duty to protect it."

"Can't we just go and ask the mayor to leave it alone?" Atsushi asked. "He'd have to listen to us, wouldn't he?"

Kinshiro smiled. "You'd think that would be the case. In reality, humans have difficulty comprehending some things, and having an actual god turning up in front of them in all their radiant glory and issuing proclamations is one of those things. They're impressed at first, but when it's all over, they start thinking perhaps they imagined it all. That's one of the reasons priests have to go through so much training - except for a few special cases," he added, with a nod towards Arima.

"So what do we do?" Atsushi repeated. He rather thought that in this case, appearing before the mayor in a blaze of glory might have been rather fun.

Kinshiro smiled a little. "We do things the subtle way. Have you ever seen someone for whom everything seems to go wrong? Suddenly their tools break, their workers quit, their shipments are delayed or lost, roofs fall in, windows crack, wells run dry, animals escape, food spoils. That's what happens when a god turns against you. I know it isn't in your nature..." He cast Atsushi a fond smile. "...but if you've ever been tempted to engage in petty revenge, now is your chance."

Atsushi blinked. "Is that allowed?"

"For mortals, no. For us, yes," said Kinshiro.

"May I help?" asked Arima.

"I'll find something for you to do," Kinshiro promised. He considered. "Anyway, I'm still on vacation. I might as well use my time for something important."

Atsushi smiled. "All right then," he said. "Let's save the Cloverleaf."

* * *

Enkaku sidled up the road, looking anywhere but at the inn. He looked at the road, at the other townspeople, at the neighboring houses and shops, trying to convince himself that he was going somewhere - _anywhere_ \- else, and that the could be surprised when the Cloverleaf finally loomed up in front of him. It wasn't working, of course, but he had to try. He paused for a little while, watching a few children with a jump rope chanting one of the nonsense rhymes that they loved so much.

"A pulley for the bucket, a clapper for the bell, a copper for the old man who lives in the well," they sang. He found himself envying them. They didn't have any responsibilities, and no one was trying to make them do anything they didn't want to do, at least not at the moment.

 _It's okay. You can do this,_ he told himself. _Just ask him politely, and if he says no, you can go back and say you tried. It will only take a minute._

With that mild encouragement, he managed the last few steps he needed to reach the door of the Cloverleaf. He raised his hand to knock and paused, unable to make himself proceed.

The window opened, and Priest Arima leaned out.

"Good morning, Mr. Sousa," he said pleasantly.

"Oh, ah..." said Enkaku, off-balance. "Good morning, your holiness."

Arima went on smiling at him. "It's a pleasure to see you again. Is there something I can do for you?"

Enkaku took a breath, straightened his spine, and endeavored to look commanding.

"I'm here to tell you that you can't stay here anymore," he said. "I mean, you were only staying on to protect the inn from looters, but, um, you don't need to do that anymore because ah... because I'm going to... going to..." He trailed off and shrugged. "Well, you know."

"I see," said Arima. He settled himself more comfortably, leaning his elbows on the windowsill. "Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to disagree with you."

"But you can't," Enkaku protested. "This is a proclamation from the mayor."

"I understand," said Arima. "Nevertheless, I'm afraid I can't help you. You must understand, I'm not a citizen of this town. I report directly to the great god Aurite, and Aurite agrees that this site is sacred to the god Epinard and should be maintained in his honor."

"I've never heard of Epinard," said Enkaku.

"He's something of a new development," Arima replied, "which is one reason why he is so eager to claim this place as his own. He needs to increase his notoriety."

Enkaku stared at Arima in disbelief. A large part of him said that there was obviously no such god as Epinard, and that Arima had invented him just for an excuse to keep anyone from taking the inn. Precisely _why_ he should be so invested in keeping the inn to himself was a mystery, but it was clear that he was bluffing. At the same time, Enkaku couldn't quite bring himself to argue. It wasn't that there was anything threatening in Arima's posture. He was as relaxed and smiling as ever. At the same time, there was something in the way he leaned so casually on the windowsill that suggested he had no intention of getting up to open the door, and his pleasant expression gave the impression that any arguments would roll over him like a river over a stone. He wasn't going to be nasty or put up a fight. He simply wasn't going to be budged.

"I see," said Enkaku. "Thank you for your time."

He slouched away feeling oddly let down. It wasn't that he was so enthused about the idea of owning an inn. In truth, he had no clear ideas of what he wanted to do with his life, but if anyone had asked, the first answer he'd have wanted to give was "Go somewhere else." The last thing he wanted was to be tied down to a job that would keep him in this dull little town forever. It wasn't as though his family couldn't afford to let him see a bit of the world if they would only let him. Besides, even if he'd wanted to stay in town, he was sure he didn't have the temperament for innkeeping.

But that wasn't the point. The point was that he was sick and tired of being pushed around, ignored, dismissed, and generally treated like a nonentity. His father treated him like a personal automaton, his mother was too busy pretending to be an invalid and getting waited on to do anything but say "that's nice, dear" and "not now, dear, I have a headache", and now even random priests were dismissing him out of hand.

 _I wish there was some way to make people listen to me. I just want to be in control of my life for once, even just a little bit..._

Fat chance of that, though. It seemed like no matter how he tried, he couldn't get anyone to take him seriously. No, he already knew how things were going to turn out: he'd tell his father how things had gone with Arima, his father would go down to the Cloverleaf and bully the priest out of it, Enkaku would be shoved into a job he was ill-suited for and didn't want, and he'd spend the rest of his life working at the Cloverleaf, or at least stay there until his father thought of something even more ridiculous to do to him. It was enough to make him want to just lie down in the street and let a cart roll over him.

As he trudged his way back home, he once again passed the children with the jump rope. They had changed places around, so that the little girl who'd been jumping earlier was now helping turn the rope while a freckle-faced little boy turned the rope, but they were still singing the same song.

"I'm going to the market, I have some things to sell, I'm going to make a bargain with the old man in the well..."

And just like that, the idea came to him - a wild, wonderful, perfect idea. There _was_ a solution to his problems. He could strike a bargain. It would have to cost him, but he was at the point where he was willing to give up anything if only it would get him what he wanted. All he had to do was find a crossroads god.

Normally, finding a god was not an easy thing to do. You could go into a temple and pray to Sulfur or Aurite or any other god, leave them an offering, and hope they'd make some time to answer you. Even if they did, though, they would probably just give you what you asked for, without the bother of turning up in person to chat with you. You had to do something pretty spectacular to actually coax a major god into speaking with you personally.

Crossroads gods, on the other hand, were meant to be accessible. They tended to stay in one place, and unlike major gods, they were known to strike bargains with humans. It was said that they could give you anything you wanted, as long as you were willing to pay the price they asked. The cost could be anything from a single wildflower on up to a promise to become that god's attendant in the afterlife. Enkaku wasn't quite sure he was willing to commit himself to an afterlife as the servant of some second-tier god, but he hoped he might be able to make some other, less costly bargain. Other people got out of their parents' homes and lived their own lives. It couldn't be but so great a thing to ask. All he had to do was figure out where the nearest crossroads god was, and he thought he had a pretty sound idea of where to look.

With these plans in his mind, he arrived home in a better frame of mind than when he left. He found his father in the parlor, drinking tea and going over some papers.

"Did you talk the blighter around?" was the predictable greeting.

"Not yet," said Enkaku vaguely. "He said something about the inn being sacred ground."

"Nonsense!" his father huffed. It dawned on Enkaku that a lot of things seemed to be nonsense in his father's world. "That's just an excuse."

"He seems very sure," Enkaku offered.

"Well, we'll just see about that," said his father. "I'll speak to him myself later, and I have no doubt I'll be able to talk some sense into him."

Enkaku agreed that this sounded very likely and retreated to the safety of the library. He spent the rest of the afternoon digging through old histories and city records, and occasionally wondering whether or not his father had spoken to Priest Arima or not. He had a vague sense that even his father would have to expend some effort to make him move. If Enkaku hadn't been so eager to avoid being saddled with an unwanted inn, he would have enjoyed watching his father's irresistible force being pitted against the immovable object that was Arima. As it was, he hoped that the priest would be able to hold out for at least a little while.

To his relief, it was clear by dinnertime that Mayor Sousa had not been able to shift the recalcitrant priest, and was in very poor spirits over it. He grumbled and blustered throughout the entire meal. He was certain Arima was lying about his holy proclamation. He was probably lying about being High Priest Arima - after all, who in this tiny town had ever or would ever make the long trek to the City of Seven Pillars to find out for sure? For all any of them knew, he could be some wandering brigand, possibly even one of those who had murdered poor Atsushi. Privately, Enkaku didn't think he bought that theory. Arima may or may not be who he said he was, but there was no way he was any sort of bandit. For one thing, he'd been sporadically conducting services in the local temple, and Enkaku doubted that there were many bandits who had memorized the prayers and litanies to the god of law and justice. Still, it kept Mayor Sousa busy, so all Enkaku had to do that night was nod and say "mm-hmm" or "no, of course not" as the situation demanded. Eventually, his mother declared she was tired and wanted to go back to her room, his father shuffled off to his study for an after-dinner drink, and Enkaku was at last free from all parental supervision.

The first thing he did was go up to his room to raid his cash box. One of the few good things about being the mayor's son was that he was given a liberal allowance. He fished through his savings and came up with a single gold coin, the coming-of-age gift he'd received on his eighteenth birthday. He'd been saving it for something special, but he felt this was more important than anything else he might buy for himself. Now all he had to do was wait.

The traditional time for making crossroads bargains was midnight. It was fortunate for Enkaku that his father's preference for ceremony meant that dinner was generally a prolonged meal with several courses, which meant it was already late. Enkaku sat by the window, nervously trying to read a book and listening as the town crier wandered up and down the streets counting out nine bells... ten... eleven...

No one Enkaku knew had ever made a crossroads bargain. Most people seemed to be of the opinion that if such a thing existed, it probably did so somewhere else. Binan, they seemed to feel, couldn't be important enough to merit its own personal god, even a minor one. And yet, as long as Enkaku could remember, the local children had been teaching each other skipping songs and clapping games about the "old man in the well". There _was_ a well at the center of town, a nice big one with a red roof, but there had never been any hints that there was anything supernatural about it. Enkaku had been a little dismayed by that fact, but a few checks of the city records had turned up the solution he'd been looking for.

 _Time to go,_ he decided. With his heart hammering, he wrapped himself up in his cloak and picked his way silently down the stairs. At this time of night, both his parents were asleep and the house staff would either be in their own quarters or sequestered in the scullery finishing the last of the washing-up. There was no one to notice as Enkaku slipped out the front door and started up the street.

At the far end of town, there stood the remains of an old farm. Most of it had been long ago torn down and built over, but a few things still remained - the moss-covered remains of an old wall, a bit of stone that marked the foundation of the original farmhouse, and, nearly hidden by half-grown trees and weeds, a well. The roof that had once covered it had long ago rotted away, and some of the stones had come loose and fallen. The whole of it was coated with moss and lichen, so that in the dark, it was almost impossible to see, and even by daylight, it was easy to overlook. Small children were warned not to play there in case they fell in. Now Enkaku picked his way carefully towards it, using the old wall as a guide and shuffling his feet so he wouldn't stumble into it.

It took several minutes of searching, but at last he found it. It looked ominous in the dim moonlight, a perfect black circle leading down into who-knew-what. For all Enkaku could see, it might go all the way down to the Abyss itself.

"A copper for the old man," he murmured, and tossed the coin down the well. He listened, counting the seconds as they ticked by, but even in the still night, he never heard a splash. He realized he was holding his breath and let it out slowly, waiting.

The well began to glow green. A wind brushed by, carrying with it a warm summery scent of ripening fruit, like melons growing in the sun. Enkaku felt a sudden thrill that was half fear and half delight, as he realized he was about to actually see a god. Then the lights gave a sudden pulse, and there was a man siting on the edge of the well.

He looked younger than Enkaku had expected, perhaps no older than Enkaku himself, and was even rather attractive. He had sleek dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, and his eyes showed a clear pale-honey gold even in the moonlight. It was hard to tell what color his robes were in the dark, but Enkaku thought they might be deep green.

"You don't look like an old man," Enkaku blurted.

The god grimaced. "Well, no. I mean, I _am_ old, by human standards. Not so much by god standards. But maybe you'd take me more seriously if I looked old? Because I could do that if you want. Or maybe I shouldn't. Maybe you'll think less of me if I just start changing my appearance to suit you. I'm the god, so I should be in charge, right? But then again, it's a god's duty to attend to his followers..."

"Um, excuse me?" Enkaku interjected. He had, it seemed, found someone even easier to push around than he was. It seemed like a good idea to head him off before he spent all night dithering. "Are you really the crossroads god? Because if you are, I'd really like to make a bargain, please."

"Oh, right." The god seemed to pull himself together with an effort of will. "Yes, I'm Uriya, the guardian god of Binan. What is your request?"

"I just want to stop my father from controlling me," said Enkaku. "He dictates every aspect of my life! He tells me what to eat, what to wear, who my friends should be, what job I should take. I never get any say in anything. If I tell him I don't want something, he contradicts me and tells me I do! It's driving me crazy! And now he wants me to take over the Cloverleaf. Atsushi was my friend, and he's only been dead a few days, and it feels wrong to just walk in and take his stuff, and I don't want to do it." He looked pleadingly at Uriya. "Can you do anything for me?"

Uriya looked thoughtfully up at the sky, tapping a finger to his lips. "Hmm... that's a tough one, all right."

Despair crept over Enkaku. If even this god couldn't help...

Something seemed to occur to Uriya. "You say your father is trying to give you the old inn?"

"That's right," said Enkaku, wondering what that had to do with anything.

"I see," said Uriya. He seemed to be debating furiously with himself, lips moving silently as he conducted his internal argument. At last, he said, "You're willing to pay the price to get what you want? Whatever I ask?"

"If I can," said Enkaku.

"Good enough," said Uriya. "Wait right here - I'll be back in a flash."

There was indeed a flash. Enkaku jumped backwards at the flare of green light and nearly tripped over the wall. He was still trying to settle himself when there was another melon-scented flash, and Uriya reappeared.

"This should do the trick," he said. "Here, take this."

He held out his hand, and Enkaku leaned in for a better look. The object he was holding was a ring, green with verdigris. It was set with a translucent blue-green stone, possibly a beryl, so smooth and so like the color of the band that it was hard to tell where one left off and the other began.

"What does it do?" Enkaku asked.

"It's... well, you might call it a ring of independence," said Uriya. "As long as you're wearing it, if someone tells you to do something you don't want to do, all you have to do is say 'I am my own master' and they'll back down. I can't let you keep it forever, but you can have it for one full phase of the moon. After that, the ring will fall to pieces. And it won't work on gods," he added sternly, "so no fair trying to use it to get around the rules, all right?"

Enkaku nodded vigorously. If he couldn't get his act together in a month, he might as well give up. "I understand."

"Good," said Uriya. "Then go ahead - put it on."

Enkaku reached for the ring, but just short of touching it, he stopped. He looked suspiciously up at Uriya.

"Wait," he said. "What's this costing me?"

Uriya looked down at the crumbling old well. "I'm tired of being ignored. I've been protecting this village since the day of its foundation, and most of the people in this village don't even believe I exist anymore. I'm tired of being stuck in an old well in a muddy field no one ever goes to anymore. I want people to pay attention to me again."

"So... you want me to build you a shrine?" Enkaku hazarded.

Uriya hesitated, clearly considering what his next words ought to be. At last, he shook his head.

"No," he said. "I want you to give me the Cloverleaf."


	3. Hitting the Bottle

Atsushi walked slowly down the hallway, trailing his hand along the wall. It was, he thought, good to be home. The Heavenly City might be filled with wonders, but this was where he had grown up. He'd been born in one of the upstairs rooms and spent his childhood playing in the back garden. Some part of him would always feel like this was home.

At the same time, he had never been _away_ from the Cloverleaf before, except for a few hectic days helping his sister get married. His world began and ended in Binan. Now he had experienced a vastly different standard of living, and the old inn didn't fare well by comparison. He'd always thought he'd run a good establishment. He'd kept it clean and in good repair. The roof didn't leak, the furniture was sound, the beds were free of pests, the windows didn't let in any drafts. Atsushi had always believed that all that plus a few homey touches and good food and beer was all any of his guests should need to feel at home. Now he picked his way slowly down the stairs, noticing the way the treads creaked gently, the way some of the boards were splintering, how everything looked just a bit worn and faded.

 _Maybe I should just let it go..._

He finished descending the stairs and found Arima already pottering around in the kitchen. He smiled brilliantly at Atsushi when he saw him.

"Ah, good morning," he said. "Did you sleep well?"

Atsushi blushed slightly. When Kinshiro had first come to the Cloverleaf, he'd been given his own room, several doors down from Atsushi's. Even when they'd started courting each other in earnest, the fact that Arima was also living at the Cloverleaf at the time tended to put a damper on their after hours activities, even if they'd had any energy left at the end of a hard day's work. Now they were married, and even Aurite's strict code of ethics didn't forbid them from sharing a bed. Not a lot of sleeping had been getting done lately.

"Gods don't really need to sleep," Atsushi said, "but we were very comfortable anyway."

"That's good," said Arima pleasantly. If he had any guesses as to why his visitors hadn't been sleeping, he wasn't letting it show on his face. "Tea is almost ready. Do you think Kinshiro will want any?"

Atsushi smiled. "I'm sure he will. He's up on the roof now, going through his morning meditations. He likes to watch the sun rise."

Arima nodded, as if this was exactly the behavior he would have expected from his god.

"I'll make sure there's tea waiting for him when he gets here, then," he said. "Do you think he'll be long?"

"Not long," said Atsushi. "I can start breakfast in the meantime."

"Are gods allowed to make breakfast for people?" Arima asked, looking dubious.

"I do," said Atsushi decisively. "That's part of being a god, isn't it? I get to make my own rules."

"Fair enough," Arima said. "Although I'm afraid I can't offer you much. I wasn't expecting guests, and I haven't been going out much in case someone slips in while I'm gone. The neighbors have been bringing things to the back door, but..."

A shimmer of golden light and a waft of green tea and incense announced Kinshiro's arrival.

"Good morning, Arima," he said. "Hello, Atsushi. Did I miss anything?"

"I was just about to make breakfast," said Atsushi. "How do you feel about pancakes this morning?"

Kinshiro nodded solemnly. "That would be excellent."

"I don't know if we have..." Arima began, but Atsushi was already reaching into a cupboard and pulling out flour and eggs and milk. Arima blinked.

"Now, I _know_ that wasn't there before," he said. He picked up the bottle of maple syrup. "I don't even know what this _is_."

"They don't grow it around here," said Atsushi. "It's good, though. You'll like it." Arima still looked mildly confused, but he shrugged agreeably and said, "I'll set the table, then."

Within minutes, Atsushi was flipping perfect golden pancakes onto a platter, and the air was full of the scent of sizzling butter and frying sausages. Arima and Kinshiro were sipping tea and conversing about various priestly matters when Atsushi brought the meal out to them.

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting," he said, as he settled into his own seat.

"You were faster than I would have been," said Arima. He flashed Atsushi a grateful smile. "That really does smell wonderful. I think divinity has actually improved your cooking, hard as that is to believe."

Atsushi laughed. "I'd be worried if it got worse."

The three of them were still chuckling and trading banter when there came a knock on the door. Arima frowned.

"Now, who could that be?" he wondered, as he reluctantly abandoned his breakfast.

Kinshiro shot a piercing look towards the front door. "I believe it's Mayor Sousa."

Arima sighed. "So much for breakfast."

Atsushi and Kinshiro glanced at each other. Without needing to ask, they both faded out of sight. Kinshiro, more experienced in hiding his presence from mortals, made their share of the breakfast invisible as well. With that taken care of, they followed Arima to the front of the building to watch the show.

Arima opened the door and smiled at his visitor.

"Good morning, Mr. Sousa," he said pleasantly.

Sousa grimaced. As a high priest, Arima was considered the earthly representative of his god, and was therefore outside of any of the usual social structures. Etiquette said that he wasn't required to use formal titles for anyone, even a king, if he didn't want to. Even so, the fact that he was refusing to call his guest "Mayor Sousa" was a put-down and everyone knew it.

"Good morning, holiness," said Sousa, forcing a smile. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Not at all. I was just beginning breakfast," said Arima.

"Ah," said Sousa, recovering himself. "I hope it's not too inadequate. I imagine you must be running a bit low on provisions by now."

Arima smiled his most pious smile. "As a priest of Aurite, I've taken a vow of austerity. I have forsworn all forms of sloth, gluttony, and general wantonness."

"I... see," said Sousa. Judging by his own waistline, it was doubtful that he had taken any such vows. "At any rate, I wanted to talk to you personally about the future of this inn. I think we can both agree that a prominent man like yourself can't stay here forever, and I want to be sure it's properly taken care of before you leave. After all, we can't have this place standing empty and drawing vandals and looters."

"Oh, I quite agree," said Arima. "That's why I won't be leaving until I know for certain that the inn is in good hands."

"I'm glad we see eye to eye about that," said Sousa. "Now, I have a son who is of an age to strike out on his own, and I had thought that he'd be the perfect person to take over the management..."

"No," said Arima.

"No?" Sousa repeated, blinking.

"No," Arima agreed. He said it very politely, and with absolutely no room for argument.

Sousa tried anyway. "I understand being sentimentally attached to the place, given that the proprietor was a friend of yours, but as things stand..."

"It isn't sentimentality," Arima explained. "As I told your son, this place is hallowed ground. It had been declared sacred to the god Epinard, and I can't possibly go against that."

Sousa gave him a long blank look. "There is no such god."

"I assure you there is," said Arima. "It's just that he was recently married to Aurite, which moved him up from being relatively obscure to a power in his own right. He's still getting settled in."

"That," said Sousa, "is the most implausible story I've ever heard."

A steely glint came into Arima's eyes, though his smile never wavered. "I hope you aren't accusing me of lying, Mr. Sousa."

"You can't just make these kinds of claims without backing them up," said the mayor. "For all I know, you could be some sort of charlatan. I've never been to Seven Pillars or seen the priest there. How can I be sure you're the real high priest - much less be sure you're serving an actual god?"

"And how, precisely, would you expect me to prove that?" Arima asked. "I can't simply demand that the gods come down and show themselves."

"I'll tell you what," said Sousa. "I'll give you a week. You prove to me that you are who you say you are, and that this god of yours is important enough to merit giving him a whole building of his own. If you can't do that, I'll have no choice but to forcibly eject you from the premises."

"I see," said Arima slowly. "Well, then. I suppose I had better hurry and finish my breakfast. Good day, Mr. Sousa."

He shut the door firmly in the mayor's face.

"Well," he said to the room in general, "I think that went very well, don't you?"

Atsushi flickered back into view again. "Went well how?"

"I didn't hit him," said Arima.

"He deserved to be hit," said Kinshiro darkly.

Arima turned to look at him. "Do you want me to go after him then?"

Kinshiro shook his head. "As satisfying as that might be, no. we have other matters on our plate at the moment."

"We need to figure out how to prove I'm a god," said Atsushi.

"Not just that you're a god," said Arima. "We have to prove that you're notable enough to be allowed to keep the building."

"So the 'appearing in a blaze of glory' trick is off the table," Kinshiro mused. "After all, the little nature spirit who guards a bed of clover is technically a god, but not many people would be willing to build a temple for her."

"So how do I prove I'm important?" Atsushi asked. "Nobody's ever heard of me."

"We'll just have to change that," said Kinshiro. "Not to mention proving Arima is actually my priest."

"That part wouldn't be so hard," said Arima, sitting back down at the table. "There are plenty of people willing to vouch for me. The problem is that most of them live far enough away from here that any message I sent couldn't possibly get a reply back within the allotted time."

"You leave that to me," said Kinshiro. "Write your messages. I'll give them to some of my attendants, and they'll deliver them directly and return with replies. You can have your proofs within hours."

"I hate to put you to the trouble," Arima murmured.

Kinshiro waved a hand. "That's what I have attendants for. I'm more concerned about making sure Atsushi doesn't lose his inn."

Atsushi looked at him uncertainly. Kinshiro looked so determined, and seeing his expression warmed Atsushi even as it made him wonder if this was really the right thing to do.

"Are you sure it's all right?" he asked. "I mean, it's just a building... I can't even live here anymore."

Kinshiro gave him a long stare.

"Do you want to give it up?" he asked.

"No!" Atsushi blurted.

"All right," said Kinshiro calmly. "Then we keep it. This was your home. It's important to all three of us."

Arima nodded. "I get the impression Enkaku doesn't even want the job. He'd be delighted if we found some way of getting around the whole situation."

Atsushi smiled a little. It made him feel better to have so much solid support.

"All right," he said. "So how do we get people to take me seriously?"

"It would help if you had a priest of your own," said Arima. "I'm happy to do whatever you ask of me, but..."

"You have your own work," Atsushi concluded. He considered. "And I can pick anyone I want?"

"Anyone," Kinshiro agreed. "They don't have to be special or important, so long as they're someone you're comfortable working with." He favored Arima with a smile. "No one thought Arima would amount to anything before I chose him, but he's the finest priest I've ever had."

Arima positively glowed. Atsushi smiled at the reaction.

"Anyway," Kinshiro continued, "there's a kind of instinct we all seem to have when it comes to priests. You'll know when you've found the right one."

"All right. I'll find someone to be my priest, then," said Atsushi. The idea was still slightly intimidating, but if his priest was someone like Arima, he imagined he could get used to it. "What else?"

"Well," said Arima thoughtfully, "you should probably choose some sacred symbols, write up a few rules for your followers, all that sort of clerical thing."

"I can help with that," said Kinshiro. "I talked Akoya through it when it was his turn."

"Some actual followers to tell your rules to wouldn't hurt," Arima added. "And a temple."

"A temple might take some work," Atsushi observed.

"No, it won't," said Kinshiro. "That will be the easy part."

Atsushi looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Look around you," said Kinshiro patiently. "Here we have an empty building, one with plenty of room in it for a sanctuary downstairs and some rooms for priests and initiates upstairs, one Arima is already telling people has been claimed as holy ground. What else were you going to do with an unused inn?"

Atsushi just stared at him. It had never once crossed his mind that this could be an option. After all, temples were supposed to be lofty places, the earthly dwelling places of gods. This was just the Cloverleaf.

Then again, come to think of it, the Cloverleaf _had_ been the dwelling place of gods. Atsushi knew of at least four that had stood under its roof at various times, not counting himself. Maybe that was enough to make it holy.

"If it's that or lose the place," he said at last, "then I say we do it." He looked around at the worn floorboards and sagging shelves. "Maybe we could get someone to fix it up a little?"

"We can hire some workers," said Arima. "Even if I have to go soliciting donations."

"You won't need to," said Kinshiro. "If it comes to that, all money offered at my temples is technically mine. I can use it at my discretion." He gave Atsushi a reassuring smile. "We'll get this place sparkling, one way or another, even if I have to borrow the funds from Sulphur himself."

Atsushi laughed at that. "We'll hope things don't get quite that desperate."

"I'll leave that to you, then," said Arima. "I'll start writing letters, and see about putting out the word to get a repair crew."

"I think I'll start looking for a priest," said Atsushi thoughtfully.

Kinshiro gave him a sidelong look. "You have someone in mind already?"

"I might," Atsushi agreed. "I don't know if he'll do, but..."

"If you feel like he's the right choice, he probably is," said Kinshiro. "Don't choose someone you don't feel good about just because they seem 'priestly'."

Atsushi laughed. "I'm probably on the right track, then. Okay, let's split up for a while and reconvene in a couple of hours."

Everyone agreed to this plan and split up. Arima headed upstairs to start writing his letters, Kinshiro went to start gathering some resources, and Atsushi... well, he hadn't been completely forthcoming about what he was going to do next. He was going to choose a priest, yes, but first he wanted to go back to the Heavenly City for a little while. Not to enjoy himself, though.

No, he was going to ask for a favor.

* * *

Uriya sat perched on the roof of the candle-maker's house and wondered if he had just done something stupid. He had wondered that a lot during his long lifetime, but never with such good reason as he had right now. From where he sat, he could see the building that was at the root of his anxiety: the Cloverleaf Inn. He'd actually been sorry when its owner had died and left it standing vacant. Since the death had happened outside the boundaries of his town, he hadn't actually known all the dramatic details for a few hours, and for those hours he'd genuinely grieved. Atsushi had been a good man, and had done good for the community in his small way. The Cloverleaf was a respectable inn and drew tradesmen who might not have visited Binan otherwise. To a city guardian like Uriya, those things were important. If Atsushi's death had been a normal one, Uriya would have done everything in his power to make sure the inn fell to someone who would take proper care of it.

But it hadn't been a normal death, and that was what was making him feel so conflicted. After spending a few miserable hours wondering how he was supposed to deal with the violent death of one of his citizens, he'd gotten a messenger telling him that he needed to come to the Heavenly City at once because Aurite was getting married. Uriya had wanted to shout at him. What did he care if Aurite was getting married? Uriya had his own problems to deal with. But he'd gone anyway, because Aurite was in charge and little gods like Uriya didn't disobey him. He'd gone to the Heavenly City and learned the truth: that the person Aurite was marrying was _Atsushi_.

 _What's so special about him?_ Uriya wondered, picking restlessly at the thatched roof. Atsushi was just a human. He'd been a nice human, as humans went, but the world was full of nice humans. Why one of them should be elevated to the rank of god and then made Aurite's consort into the bargain was a complete mystery. If Aurite wanted to get married, there were plenty of perfectly good gods already in existence. Why did Fate need to make another one? And why did it have to be such an ordinary sort of human who had never in his life done anything interesting?

 _It isn't that I want the job for myself,_ Uriya thought. _But there are hundreds, maybe thousands, of us crossroads gods and we never get noticed. I've taken care of this city since the day it was founded and he never even noticed I was here. I suppose I could have gone up and introduced myself, but what difference would that have made? He'd have forgotten me as soon as he turned his back on me._

But he had favored Atsushi. He'd made him immortal, married him, entrusted him with the fates of mankind. Well, fine. That was Aurite's prerogative. But Binan was Uriya's town, and Uriya had prior claim on it. It had just been good luck that someone had remembered the existence of a crossroads god at this convenient moment, and better that he had some slender claim on the building as well. Now that Uriya had fulfilled the terms of that bargain, even Aurite would have to admit that the Cloverleaf belonged by rights to Uriya.

 _If I can't have respect,_ Uriya told himself, _at least I'll have something the great gods want. That will have to be good enough._

* * *

Old man Endou sat on the back porch of his sister's house and wondered if he'd lived too long. It was a sad world, he thought, where a burnt-out old codger like him could linger on while a bright young man like Atsushi could be cut off in his prime. Endou missed the Cloverleaf, and not just because the beer at the Mountain's Arms tasted like water. He was almost certain that the bartender there had been adulterating the drinks to stop him from getting drunk so fast. Endou had finally left in disgust, muttering imprecations.

And now... what? He had nowhere to go and nothing to do. His hip and shoulder ached, tokens of the mining accident that had cost him everything. He lived now on his family's sufferance, and he could tell they were getting more than a little tired of dealing with him. If he didn't shape up soon, no doubt they would try to find something else to do with him. He didn't like to think too hard about what that would be.

 _Nothing but a burden,_ he told himself. _Everyone would be happier if I just fell in the creek and got it over with._ The only person who had never treated him like a burden was gone, probably off to a happier afterlife than Endou would ever get. Atsushi had always treated him like a valued customer, even when he was drunk and rowdy and probably not very pleasant company. _If I had anything, I'd give it up just to see him again..._

He didn't turn around when he heard footsteps approaching. He did, however, look up when someone sat down on the stoop beside him.

"Room for one more?" a familiar voice asked.

Endou sat up and started. "You... you're dead!"

Atsushi smiled. "Well, yes. But that doesn't mean I'm gone."

"Am I dreaming?" Endou asked.

"Who knows?" Atsushi replied with a shrug. "Even if you are, we can still have a nice chat, can't we?"

Endou stared at him for a few seconds more before settling down again.

"Wouldn't be the worst dream I've ever had," he admitted.

"So how have you been doing?" Atsushi asked.

"Terrible," said Endou bluntly. "What did you have to go and die for, anyway? We need you here."

"I know, and I'm sorry," said Atsushi. "It was Fate."

"Fate gives us a raw deal," Endou muttered. "If I ever meet him, I'll punch him in the nose."

Atsushi smiled. "I've met him. If you do happen to meet him, you might change your mind. His nose is a bit high off the ground, for one thing."

"Met Fate, huh? Huh," Endou muttered. He looked at Atsushi thoughtfully. He didn't look particularly like a dream. Dreams tended to have a certain blurriness about them, but Endou could see every individual hair on Atsushi's head, every stitch of embroidery, as clearly as he could see anything else. "So what's it like being dead, then?"

"I think it varies from person to person," Atsushi demurred. "But I'm all right, anyway."

"I'll probably be joining you soon," Endou muttered. "Or at least giving an account of myself to Aurite. Doubt I'll find much favor with him."

"You might be surprised," Atsushi said. He was quiet for a moment, and Endou waited for him to fade away - back into a dream, or into the afterlife, wherever he belonged. Instead, after a while, he said, "You know, it doesn't have to be like that."

Endou turned to stare at him. "Like what?"

"The way you think," Atsushi replied. "You could begin again, have a fresh start. You could still do things with your life that would earn Aurite's approval instead of blame."

"Not bloody likely," Endou muttered. "What am I supposed to do? I can't even walk without a blasted stick to lean on."

"That could change too," said Atsushi quietly.

"Not unless you've turned into a healer after you died," Endou retorted.

"Not exactly, no," said Atsushi, "but there still might be something I can do to help you."

"That'd be something to see," said Endou.

Atsushi didn't reply directly. Instead, he reached beneath his robes - really, what in the world _was_ he wearing? Surely that must be part of a dream - and pulled out a small round bottle. There was some sort of liquid sloshing around inside. Atsushi held it out.

"Share a drink?" he offered.

Endou eyed the bottle dubiously. Whatever was inside, it didn't look like any beer he'd ever seen, nor did it seem to be wine or liquor. It reminded him more of honey than anything else, with an odd, almost metallic shimmer glinting in its depths.

"I've probably had worse stuff," he remarked, and accepted the bottle. The glass felt warm against his palm. With stiff fingers, he managed to pry the stopper out and took a sniff. It smelled like honey, too... and like fresh-baked bread, like good soft earth, like clean sheets that had been drying out in the sun, like ripening apples, like the warm skin of a girl he'd known back when he was hale and strong and felt like he would never die. His eyes widened.

"Are you sure I'm supposed to drink this?" he asked.

Atsushi smiled reassuringly. "Go ahead. It'll do you good."

Endou looked warily down at the bottle. Well, if this really was a dream, drinking it would do him no harm, and if it wasn't a dream... well, if he couldn't trust Atsushi, who could he trust? He took a deep breath, raised the bottle to his lips, and drank.

From his position on the stoop, Atsushi had a perfect vantage point to see what happened next. He watched as the old man's face took on an expression of astonishment. Endou gasped. The bottle slipped from his fingers and rolled across the ground, but Atsushi could see that the liquid inside was gone. That was good. Atsushi had bargained strenuously with the goddess of healing to get that elixir, but when he'd explained what he wanted it for, she'd finally relented. He'd have to pay her back in the future, but for now, it was clear that the potion was doing its job. A drink from that bottle would have brought a man back from the brink of death. It was more than up to the job of repairing a few badly-set bones and cleaning up the damage done by too much alcohol and not enough real food and exercise. Atsushi could see the lines of pain and weariness fade away from his old friend's face.

"Fate's axe," Endou swore reverently. "What was _in_ that stuff?"

Atsushi just smiled. "Try standing up."

The old man gave Atsushi a doubtful look, but he slowly stood up, still leaning heavily on his cane. He wasn't such an old man, Atsushi realized - probably not much more than fifty-five or sixty. Years of hard living had lined his face and whitened his hair, but he'd probably live another twenty or thirty years, provided he didn't do anything to undo the work of that elixir. Now Atsushi watched with genuine pleasure as Endou let his cane fall to the ground. He stamped the ground a few times with his bad leg. He jumped up and down, raised his arms above his head, tried running a few yards. He stared at Atsushi in utter astonishment.

"There's no pain," he said.

"No, and there won't be, unless you injure yourself again," said Atsushi.

"And this is real," said Endou slowly. "I'm not just drunk, or dreaming, or having some sort of fever hallucination?"

"It's all real," Atsushi assured him.

Endou regarded him with narrowed eyes. "How?"

"Sit down and I'll tell you," Atsushi replied.

Endou did not look like he wanted to sit down - not that Atsushi could blame him, since he hadn't been able to stand properly in years - but in the end, he settled himself beside Atsushi on the step.

"You see," Atsushi began, "it all started when I was on my way home from doing the shopping. There was that big storm - do you remember? - and I was looking for someplace to get out of the rain for a minute..."

He went on explaining - somewhat circumspectly at first, but getting more detailed as Endou plied him with questions. He was especially interested in the part where Atsushi explained his own death and subsequent resurrection.

"So you're a god now?" Endou asked.

Atsushi nodded. "That's the long and short of it."

"Good," said Endou. "It's about time they got someone with some sense in charge."

Atsushi laughed. "I don't know about that, but I'm doing my best."

"Well, you've done me a world of good," said Endou. "Just look at me! I'm walking better than I did even before the collapse. I could get a job again. I can live on my own again. Vesta's candles, I might even be able to find myself a wife."

"I'm sure if I ask him, he'll look for one for you," said Atsushi. "But right now, there's something I want you to do for me."

Endou looked at him seriously. "You saved my life. I owe you more than I can pay. Name it, and I'll make it happen."

"Well, I'm still pretty new at this god stuff," said Atsushi. "I don't have a temple or any worshipers or anything. I need a priest to start telling people things for me. I want you to be my new high priest, and help other people find second chances just like you have."

"I don't know about that," said Endou, frowning. "I'm just an old miner. I don't know anything about this priest business."

"It's okay. I don't know very much about my job yet, either," said Atsushi. "Don't worry about it. Mostly I'll be telling you what needs doing, so you won't have to think about it too much. Anyway, Kinshiro - Aurite to you - and his high priest are back at the inn right now. We'll all help you until you get the hang of it."

Endou seemed to think about it.

"Are priests allowed to get married?" he asked.

"Mine are," said Atsushi decisively.

"Good enough for me," said Endou, rising briskly to his feet. "Just let me tell my sister. She'll swallow her teeth when she hears about this."

"Don't tell her who I am," said Atsushi. "You were summoned by the god Epinard. That's all anyone else needs to know."

"That's probably all the surprise she can handle anyway," Endou agreed. "Even if she doesn't believe me, she'll be glad to have me out of the house."

"You can promise her that much," said Atsushi. "You have a home waiting for you at the Cloverleaf."

 _And this,_ Atsushi thought with satisfaction, _is the first step in making sure you can stay there._


	4. A Very Important Guest

The next morning, Enkaku did not get out of bed on time. Under normal circumstances, he would have been out of bed as soon as he heard the servants begin moving around downstairs, so he could be dressed and at the breakfast table in time to avoid a scolding. The "lazy young people of today" speech was one of his least favorites, possibly because it was usually delivered when he was legitimately tired out from something and trying desperately not to fall asleep in his food. Today, though, he had made up his mind to stay in bed for a while.

 _I was up half the night, after all,_ he assured himself. Even after he had parted company with Uriya and returned home, he'd been too excited to sleep. He'd sat awake for hours, thinking about all the things he was going to do now that no one could stop him from doing them. Gently, he stroked the warm metal of his new ring, reassuring himself that he really had been given a gift from a god and everything was about to change.

Eventually, a maid appeared in his doorway, looking at him with concern.

"Are you sick, Master Enkaku?" she asked.

"No," he assured her, "but I didn't sleep well. I'd like my breakfast in bed today."

She frowned. "Your father won't..."

Enkaku twisted the ring. "It doesn't matter what he wants. I am my own master, and I say I should get breakfast in bed today - scrambled eggs with mushrooms, bacon, and bread with jam, and tea with plenty of cream and honey."

"Of course, young master," said the maid obediently, and slipped out of the room.

With immense satisfaction, Enkaku settled back against his pillows, congratulating himself for his cleverness.

He was enjoying the best breakfast he'd had in years by the time he heard his father's heavy footsteps coming towards his door. Longstanding habit told him he needed to hide the tray and scramble into some clothes, _now_ , and come up with a good excuse for why he hadn't been at the breakfast table. He squelched the impulse and focused his attentions on smearing jam onto his last piece of toast.

The door to his room flew open with a bang. Enkaku's father stormed in, stamping his feet hard enough to make the windows rattle.

"What are you doing lazing around in bed?" he demanded.

"I didn't sleep well," said Enkaku. "I just wanted to rest a little longer."

"That is unacceptable," his father boomed. "As my son, you have a duty to..."

"I am my own master," Enkaku interrupted, "and I decide what my duty is. I'm not getting up until I'm good and ready."

His father stared at him, face going first pale, then blotchy red.

"Just don't lie there all day," he snapped, and stormed out again.

Enkaku leaned back with a sigh of relief. Gradually, his heart stopped pounding, and his relief grew into a sense of exultation. It had worked! He had actually contradicted his father and his father hadn't shouted him down. That had _never_ happened before.

 _Well, it's going to happen more often,_ he told himself. _And pretty soon, I'll never have to deal with him again._

Still dwelling on that thought, he poured himself another cup of tea.

* * *

At the same moment Enkaku was enjoying his leisurely breakfast, the team at the Cloverleaf was washing up their own breakfast dishes and talking about what to do with the rest of their day. Most of the previous day had been spent bringing Atsushi's new priest up to speed. Fortunately, he caught on fast. Before his accident, Endou had been a foreman on his mining team, so he could read and write fairly well and was used to leading people. Atsushi thought that with Arima guiding him, he'd soon have the hang of his new job. It was taking longer for Atsushi to sort through all of the things that Kinshiro insisted were important for a god to decide. Deciding things like his sacred symbol and chosen colors were easy, but Atsushi had never been very good at setting rules for people more complicated than "Please do not spit on the floor". He had offered to help with the washing up, but the two priests had insisted that it was not necessary. Now he was hanging around the dining area, fidgeting while he waited for something to do. That was why he was the first one to realize that company was coming.

"Hey, Kinshiro," he called. "Come look at this!"

Kinshiro, who had been inspecting the notes he and Atsushi had made yesterday, stood up and joined Atsushi at the window, where he was just in time to see an unusual sight.

There were not any carriages in Binan. For one thing, the town was small enough that most people could walk from one end to the other and back with relative ease. Outside the town limits, the roads became too rough for anything but a sturdy farm wagon. For another thing, Binan was not a wealthy town, and not even the mayor cared to waste the money it would take to buy a carriage he couldn't ride anywhere but up and down the main street. The only carriages Atsushi had ever seen were the ones he'd glimpsed on the rare occasions when he'd ventured into larger cities.

This was definitely a carriage. It was painted deep sapphire blue, carved all over with swirls and curlicues everywhere one might conceivably fit, and those flourishes had been touched up with gilt trim. The metal fittings gleamed as richly as an altar to Sulfur. It was drawn by two perfect coal-black horses, each with a headpiece of blue feathers and ribbons to match the carriage. The whole scene was enough to dazzle Atsushi's eyes, but he wasn't so dazed that he didn't take in the coat of arms painted on the door, which depicted a black bird with a long neck and outstretched wings, silhouetted against a white and gold background.

"Ahh," said Kinshiro, sounding as amused as Atsushi had ever heard him. "Would you look who's here. I wondered if we might be seeing him." Raising his voice, he called, "Arima, get the door! We have a visitor."

Arima came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. He was wearing an apron over his usual black and gold robes.

"You may want to take that off," said Kinshiro, smirking slightly. "We have an important guest."

"Hm?" said Arima,turning towards the window. "Oh! Well, I'll be blessed. I wasn't expecting him to show up in person."

He stripped off the apron and flung it over the back of a chair before hurrying towards the door. Atsushi, curious, went invisible and followed him outside.

He was just in time to see the door to the carriage open, and a slim, foppishly dressed young man flung himself into the street.

"Arima, my dear friend!" the stranger gushed, throwing himself at the startled priest and embracing him enthusiastically. "How good it is to see you again!"

"It's a pleasure to see you too," said Arima. He returned the embrace with what looked like genuine affection, if not quite as much enthusiasm as his companion. "Truly, I didn't expect you to come here at all, much less so quickly."

"I paid a wizard for a swift-travel charm," said the newcomer. "When I knew you needed my help, I couldn't let anything stand in my way."

"We are very grateful for your assistance," said Arima. He managed to disentangle himself from the other man's grip just as Endou came out of the inn to see what all the fuss was about. "My lord, allow me to introduce Endou, high priest of Epinard. Holiness, permit me to introduce you to my old friend, Lord Moteo Kurotori."

Endou, puffed with pride at being addressed so formally, gave a respectful nod to the young lord, who responded with a sweeping bow. Atsushi watched this performance with interest. He noticed that there was no "mister" in sight today - Arima wasn't exercising his right to dispense with noble titles. That implied that this was indeed a friend, or at least someone he had a degree of respect for. Atsushi began to feel a little better about this project. Having a little noble blood on their side was no bad thing. Already, he could see the locals peeking out of their houses to have a look at this flamboyant stranger.

"I am honored to meet any associate of my old friend," said Kurotori to Endou. He turned back to Arima. "Now, what is it I can do for you? Do you need money? Do you want me to bully this mayor person into seeing sense? Just point him out to me, and I'll..."

"We aren't ready to take that step yet," said Arima, deftly cutting Kurotori off and steering him inside the building. "Actually, what you can do for us is a matter of talent. What we need most of all that we can't get in this town is someone with your sense of artistry." Kurotori looked interested. "Oh? Do tell."

"Well, you see this building?" said Arima, gesturing at the public room. "We plan to turn it into a temple. It will have to be enlarged and renovated to make it a fit place of worship for an important god, while still not losing its essential character. This is to be the temple of the god of mercy, so it has to be a place where even the humblest person can feel welcome."

"Ahh, I see, I see!" said Kurotori, eyes shining. "That will indeed be a challenge! You were right to send for me. Don't worry about a thing - I will design the perfect temple for you! Now, the first thing I'm going to need is some paper... and do you know where I could find a measuring tape? I don't suppose you already have a floor plan of the building? No? Well, I'll just have to do it myself..."

Arima dispatched Endou to fetch a tape measure, and then provided his guest with paper and writing implements. Aglow with artistic ecstasy, Kurotori wandered off to start sketching designs. Once he was out of earshot, Atsushi and Kinshiro allowed themselves to flicker back into view again.

"What was that all about?" Atsushi asked.

"That, as you may have gathered, was Lord Moteo Kurotori," said Arima. "He's something of a friend of mine. That is to say, I worked for him briefly, back before I became a priest."

Kinshiro smirked. "What he isn't saying is that Kurotori had a bit of an infatuation with him. I think he still wants to impress you, Arima."

Arima flushed. "I'm sure he's quite over it by now. Anyway, you know my first loyalty is always to you."

"I know," said Kinshiro, but he looked pleased all the same.

"So will he do a good job?" asked Atsushi. "I don't want my inn to end up looking like... you know..." He waved his hand vaguely.

"Like the inside of Akoya's sitting room?" Kinshiro suggested.

"His tastes do tend to be rather ornate," Arima admitted, "but I think I managed to impress on him the need for simplicity. He does have a good eye for design, actually. I've never seen anything to match his gardens, and I've been in the homes of many wealthy and titled people."

Kinshiro nodded. "He's vain and shallow, but he does have Pearlite's blessing. Anything he designs will be attractive, and if it's not appropriate, we'll find some way to talk him out of it."

"And money is no object with him," Arima chimed in. "He has the funds to pay for whatever he designs. I have no doubt he's going to want the very best for this place."

Atsushi looked around the room, feeling mixed emotions. He had been thinking not so very long ago that his old inn was looking somewhat the worse for wear. Part of him was encouraged by the thought that someone was here with the money and incentive to get it fixed up. On the other hand, the thought of changing his home in such a drastic and permanent way unsettled him.

 _Well, I've changed too. Maybe it's all right if the Cloverleaf changes with me._

That thought made him smile. Put like that, it felt less as if he'd left his home behind forever, and more as though he'd found a way to take it with him.

 _I guess turning an inn into a temple is the inn equivalent of a man becoming a god._ He grinned at the idea.

"I can't wait to see what he comes up with," he said.

* * *

Kinshiro sat on a fence, eating an apple and watching the show.

He wouldn't have wanted to say that Arima had made the wrong choice in summoning Kurotori to his aid, but it remained a fact that the man was a bit of a nuisance. As soon as he'd gotten hold of the tape measure he wanted, he'd started going around the inn measuring things, wandering here, there, and everywhere, leaving a trail of sketched-out notes and disarranged furniture in his wake, talking to himself the entire time. The chaos soon became too much to bear. Arima had gone into town to start buying supplies, while Atsushi and his new priest had escaped to Endou's room to work on writing some litanies. Kinshiro, however, hadn't been able to stand being even that close to the whirlwind of activity inside, and had retreated to this more secluded vantage point. Even that hadn't saved him, however. It hadn't been very long before Kurotori had emerged and started making measurements of the grounds.

By now, Kinshiro wasn't the only one watching the show. Apparently, the sight of a magnificently dressed stranger wandering around in the weeds with a tape measure was enough of a spectacle to draw a crowd. Kurotori, never one to turn down an audience, had started recruiting. Now at least half a dozen people were scuttling around with more tape measures, plumb lines, ladders, stakes, and bits of string, taking measurements and marking out boundaries. Kinshiro had to admit, he had seen actual planned performances that weren't half so entertaining.

"They look like they're having fun," a voice above his head remarked.

Kinshiro emitted a highly undignified yelp of surprise. He dropped the remains of his apple, and might have fallen off the fence, if a pair of surprisingly strong arms hadn't clamped themselves around his middle, preventing him from going anywhere at all.

"Hi there!" chirped the owner of the arms. "Are you enjoying your vacation?"

"Um," said Kinshiro, trying to figure out if there was some way of escaping the grip he was in.

Fortunately for him, the person who had accosted him let go, and Kinshiro slid off the fence and onto his feet so he could turn around to face his visitors. Standing on the other side of the fence were Yumoto, still beaming at him, and Gora. Kinshiro backed away a step.

"I'm sorry," he blurted.

Gora raised an eyebrow. "You know, you don't have to apologize every time you see me. I may have punished you once, but that was for a serious reason. I'm not going to do it every time we meet."

"I know," said Kinshiro. "It's just... well..."

Yumoto leaned over the fence, balancing his weight on his hands while his feet waved free in the air.

"What, did you do something wrong or something?"

"No!" said Kinshiro, and then, "Maybe. Yes? I don't know."

Gora gave an amused smile. "Well, that does cover all the options, doesn't it?"

"Don't laugh at me. It isn't funny," Kinshiro snapped, turning away.

Yumoto flipped himself off the fence, rolling into a somersault and bouncing to his feet next to Kinshiro. He gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm.

"It's okay," he said. "You can tell us. I mean, Big Brother probably knows already, so you might as well get it off your chest, right?"

"It's nothing," said Kinshiro. Yumoto continued to regard him with wide, concerned eyes, and he found himself blurting, "It's just that I haven't been attending to my duties lately. I _know_ I should, and I keep meaning to, but somehow..."

Gora burst out laughing. "You're on your _honeymoon_. No one expects you to be thinking about work right now."

"I know," Kinshiro mumbled. "That isn't it. I mean, it's more than just that."

He found himself groping for words, unable to express a feeling that he'd never had before and didn't know how to cope with. Kinshiro was one of the oldest of the gods, only a little bit younger than Chance and Fate themselves. During his entire existence, he had been devoted to one purpose and one purpose only: maintaining order in the universe, seeing to it that everything followed the laws that he and the rest of the gods had set down, and putting things back into place when they strayed. That was his job, his only reason for existing, and he'd always done it alone. He pre-dated the existence of romance. He had seen the way sexual desire could drive otherwise rational people to extremes, so he had given his followers stern guidelines as to how they were to conduct themselves. He had followed those laws himself. For thousands of years, he had watched the mortal world enjoy their love affairs, watched his own kind pair off with each other, and he had always remained aloof.

Then Gora had decided he needed to strip Kinshiro of all his power and dump him on Earth with nothing more than a few rags of clothing. It had been meant as a punishment, but it had come with a silver lining. Kinshiro had fallen head over heels for a kindhearted innkeeper and nothing had been the same since.

"I don't even know how much I _want_ to do my job anymore," he admitted quietly. "Just look at what I'm doing now. We don't really _need_ to go to all this trouble just for a building. Atsushi could have a temple anywhere - in one of the big cities, maybe, where people would notice him right away, instead of in a tiny little town no one has ever heard of. All I really need to do is punish Mayor Sousa for trying to steal something that isn't his, and that should be that. But I don't seem to care half as much about making sure justice is done as I care about making Atsushi happy. I don't know if I'm ever going to care about anything so much as I care about making Atsushi happy."

Gora began to laugh again. "And you think that's so bad?"

"Yes!" Kinshiro insisted. "I'm supposed to do my job! That's what I _exist_ for."

"You think so, eh?" asked Gora, tilting his head thoughtfully. "That's a pretty big assumption, thinking you know what you exist for."

Kinshiro looked at him, puzzled. "But it is. You created me because you wanted someone to help you put the universe in order."

"Yes and no," said Gora vaguely. "That's one thing you're good for, and you do it pretty well most of the time. But we also made you a person, and people don't exist for just one reason. Well, look at that character." He jerked a thumb at Kurotori, who was busy measuring the distance between the fence and the side of the inn. "What do you suppose he exists for?"

"I don't know," said Kinshiro. It was on his tongue to say that Kurotori seemed pretty useless, as humans went, but he knew better than to say so.

"But you do know about yourself, hm?" Gora retorted. "Well, today, Kurotori exists to help Atsushi get his inn turned into a temple. Another time, he existed to teach Arima a lesson. Sometimes he exists to provide money to hardworking craftsmen, or to dance on a stage and give people a few minutes of enjoyment. Just at the moment, he's providing a little entertainment to the locals. Who knows what he'll exist for tomorrow? Maybe sometimes, what _you_ exist for is to make Atsushi happy."

"I don't understand," Kinshiro admitted.

"That's okay. You don't have to," said Yumoto. "Sometimes it's more fun not to understand everything. Anyway, what did you think we let you have a husband for?"

"I, ah," Kinshiro began, thrown by the change in topic.

"We didn't let you marry him just so you could work all the time and ignore him," Yumoto continued. "What good would that do anybody?"

"I don't..." Kinshiro attempted.

"It would be bad," Yumoto insisted. "Don't you know? Gods aren't good at being unhappy."

Kinshiro made a face. "I don't know about that."

"What my little brother is trying to say," said Gora, "is that it's not healthy for a god to be too unhappy for too long. You've been around long enough to have seen that before, haven't you?"

Kinshiro nodded, sobering a bit at that idea. Yes, he'd seen it happen before. A god who was in too much pain, physical or emotional, might choose to dissolve back into their unconscious state, preferring to exist merely as an abstract concept rather than continue to endure their affliction. It hadn't happened often, and certainly not recently, but in the old days...

"Well, it's true the other way around," Gora went on. "When you're happy and enjoying yourself, it reminds you of why you want to go on existing and helps you hold yourself together. That's why we gave you people a whole city full of delights to help you keep your spirits up. Frankly, as abstemious as you are, I'm amazed you managed to stay sane as long as you did."

Kinshiro noticed the choice of tenses - "did" rather than "have". How close _had_ he been to disaster when Gora had decided to shake up his reality? Too close, he reluctantly concluded. Denying himself all the usual avenues of pleasure, he'd learned to take pleasure in punishing people instead. If it was true what Gora said, that he _needed_ some level of enjoyment just to stay alive, and the only enjoyment he was getting came from hurting people... well, small wonder the greater gods had felt the need to stage an intervention.

Yumoto nodded. "Atsushi loves you. If you ignore him, he'll be sad. If you want to cuddle him and be close to him, you should. It will make you both stronger."

"I think I begin to see," said Kinshiro. "It does make sense, when you put it like that..."

Gora smiled. "Glad to help. I'm just sorry we didn't have more time to talk about these things before your wedding. You did sort of cut out early during the party..."

Kinshiro couldn't help blushing a little. Quickly, he said, "So you think us turning the Cloverleaf into a temple is a good idea? I mean, is this something you planned for us to do?"

"Who knows?" came the unhelpful answer. "I plan a lot of things. Sometimes I plan for them and forget I did."

Kinshiro didn't believe that for a moment. Reluctantly, he accepted that he just wasn't going to get a straight answer about this.

"Anyway," Gora continued, "the bathhouse is still going to be in town for a few more days, in case any of you want to drop by for a soak. I'd like to watch how all this pans out."

Yumoto nodded. "Anyway, if that guy stays here long enough, he's probably going to want to dance, and I'd like to see the show."

"Don't worry," said Gora, affectionately ruffling his brother's hair. "We won't leave until all the fun is over." He glanced briefly at the inn, then back at Kinshiro. "And on that note, I believe your husband is wondering where you wandered off too. Maybe you had better go let him know."

"I'll do that," Kinshiro promised. "Thank you for the advice."

"That's what I'm here for," said Gora lazily. "That and running the baths. Coming with me, Yumoto?"

Yumoto shook his head. "I want to stay here and watch for a while longer."

"All right, then," his brother replied, turning to start back out of town. "Stay out of trouble. Bring us back something good for lunch."

"Yay, lunch!" Yumoto cheered, which Kinshiro took as a "yes". He smiled a little as he waved goodbye to the two of them and started back to the inn.

 _There's one who never has to worry about fading away from unhappiness,_ he mused, glancing over his shoulder to where Yumoto was still observing Kurotori's antics with evident amusement. _Maybe I have been too hard on myself. If even the lords of the universe take time out to have fun once in a while..._

He found Atsushi wandering around upstairs, looking mildly concerned. His expression cleared as he turned around and saw Kinshiro.

"There you went," he said. "Where have you been?"

"Just outside," said Kinshiro. "Gora and Yumoto came by to have a chat."

"Oh?" said Atsushi. "What did they have to say?"

Kinshiro smiled and reached to take his hand. "That I should stop worrying so much and pay more attention to you instead."

Atsushi laughed. "That sounds like good advice to me."

"I thought so too," said Kinshiro, tugging Atsushi to the room they'd been sharing. "So as long as no one needs us for anything..."

* * *

For an inn that wasn't open, the Cloverleaf was getting an awful lot of business.

Granted, most of the excitement was going on outside, but that hardly mattered to Atsushi. He was happily in his element, up to his elbows in cooking. When the crowds had started to arrive, he had taken up a station in the kitchen where no one could see him, and immediately set about making food for all the people who had turned up on his lawn. The ones who had initially turned up only to gawp at the flamboyant stranger had gotten roped into the measuring, and then into the staking out of the new temple's boundaries, and finally into doing some initial preparation and repairs. There was quite a crowd out there now, ranging from the curious children and gossipy old-timers to the crew of painters and carpenters who had been drawn in by the double lure of Kurotori's money and the genuine desire to preserve Atsushi's home.

Ordinarily, he would have had trouble keeping up with the tides of people, but it seemed whatever godly force had allowed him to pull ingredients that weren't there from his cupboard also helped in other ways. Everything turned out perfectly, neither burnt nor underdone, in half the time it usually took, and if he put a half dozen hand pies into the oven, a dozen came out. The beer kegs never seemed to run dry, no matter how many drinks were drawn from them. Even the dishes seemed to need only a dunk in the sink to come out clean and sparkling. It made what might have otherwise seemed like a chore actually feel like fun.

At intervals, Arima and Kinshiro dashed in and out of the kitchen to grab another tray of food. Unlike Atsushi, who didn't dare show his face in public at the moment, Kinshiro had been able to resume his mortal disguise as the Cloverleaf's busboy. He explained to anyone who asked that he'd been frightened by seeing his friend killed and had run away, but when he'd gotten the word that someone was trying to steal Atsushi's legacy, he'd come back to help protect it. That had earned him a certain amount of respect from the crowd. No one seemed to think it necessary to ask exactly where he'd gone or how he'd found out what was happening. He and Arima managed to give the impression, without coming out and saying as much, that it had been Arima himself who had tracked him down and given him the news.

 _Which is partly true,_ Atsushi mused, as he pulled a pan of fresh bread out of the oven. He set it on the rack to cool and contemplated what to do next. There was still a bit of roast venison left, plenty of small hand pies, two kinds of stew, some roast vegetables, and now bread. That ought, he thought, to be plenty even for this ravenous horde. He could afford to take a quick breather. Making sure that he was invisible to mortals, he slipped out the back door and went to have a look at the festivities.

People certainly did seem to be having a good time. Some of them had brought chairs over; others had brought out old blankets, as if this were a picnic. Nearly everyone had something to eat or drink in front of them, or had the remains of a meal scattered around them. Some of the local musicians had turned up with their instruments, and were making a lively sound. Most of the attention, however, was on Kurotori himself. The carpenters had obliged him by setting up a rough-and-ready stage, and now Kurotori was flitting around in time to the music. The good people of Binan were more accustomed to country dances than with this more rarified style, but it at least had the pleasure of novelty about it, and the audience was being reasonably accepting about the whole thing. A few people, in fact, had clearly never seen anything like him before, and were watching him with utter fascination. When the dancer paused to catch his breath between songs, several of the young women and even one or two of the burly carpenters competed to bring him a drink and compliment him on his performance. Kurotori was obviously loving the attention, and Atsushi thought that perhaps his new friend would get more out of this adventure than just the pleasure of knowing he'd done a good thing.

As Atsushi had that thought, he glanced around curiously, scanning the far edges of the crowd. He was entirely unsurprised to catch a glimpse of Ryuu and Akoya lurking in the shadows of the forest. Ryuu winked and waved at Atsushi before both of them disappeared again. Atsushi grinned.

 _I'm starting to be really glad I came here. Everything is going so well..._

"And just _what_ is going on here?"

The strident voice cut across the hum of conversation and the sound of tuning instruments. Everyone turned to see a young man watching them with an expression that might have been intimidating on a more imposing person. On this weedy young man, it only looked a bit petulant.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Sousa?" asked Arima, striding forward to intercept the threat.

Enkaku Sousa waved a hand at the crowd. "What are all these people doing here?"

"Eating dinner, listening to music, watching the show..." said Arima pleasantly. "You're welcome to join in, if you like."

"Are you feeding them?" Enkaku asked. He made it sound like an accusation.

"It seemed like the charitable thing to do," said Arima.

"Well, you need to stop," said Enkaku. "And for that matter, you need to get _him_..." He jerked a thumb at Kurotori. "...out of the building."

"I don't see why," said Arima. "He's an old friend of mine, and he isn't causing any trouble. Everyone seems to like having him here."

"Then he can stay with them," said Enkaku firmly. "I know you want to protect your friend's legacy, but the fact remains that in this town, any establishment that offers food or bedding has to have a proper license. You may be a priest, or you may not, but I _know_ you don't have a business license."

"I'm afraid not," Arima admitted, "but..."

"No buts," said Enkaku firmly. "You get all of these people out of here by tomorrow morning, or my father will have you arrested!"

"I see," said Arima, expression going wooden. "I understand. Far be it from me to stray from the letter of the law."

"You had better see to it," said Enkaku, and stalked away with his chin held high. Arima watched him go, looking faintly worried.

"Are we going to have to leave?" someone in the audience asked.

"No, not yet," said Arima. "He gave us until tomorrow morning, so go on with what you're doing. I'm just going to have a talk with my friends inside..."

He started for the inn's back door, with Endou following him. Atsushi took that as his cue and began to follow as well, but Kinshiro pulled him aside.

"Wait," he said. "Over here."

The two of them slipped out of sight around the corner of the inn.

"What's up?" Atsushi asked.

Kinshiro was frowning in the direction Enkaku had gone.

"Doesn't what just happened strike you as awfully peculiar?" he asked.

Atsushi frowned. He had known Enkaku all his life. They had played together sometimes as boys. The Enkaku he knew had been a quiet, downtrodden type, easily shouted over by the other children. He and Atsushi had bonded over a mutual love of books, enforced by Atsushi's natural inclination to look after people who couldn't look after themselves.

"You're right," said Atsushi. "That really wasn't like him at all."

"I thought it seemed odd," said Kinshiro, "but I don't know him as well as you do. What can you tell me about him?"

"Not much," Atsushi admitted. "He's the mayor's only child. His mother is one of those recreational invalids - there's nothing really wrong with her, but she figured out it's easier to look pretty and fragile all the time than to actually _do_ anything, and her husband has the money to indulge her. I get the feeling Enkaku gets pushed around a lot at home. He's always saying he'd like to do this or that, but his father won't let him. He tends to look like he's doing something he's not supposed to and hoping no one will notice, even if all he's doing is going to the store to buy ink."

"I know the type," Kinshiro agreed. "And normally, I would applaud his showing some spine, but this was too rapid a turnaround. The last time we saw him, I got the impression that he didn't even want us to give him the inn, and now he's talking about having poor Arima thrown in jail."

"Which is one threat that's likely to work," Atsushi murmured. Arima might be willing to push a few boundaries, but for a priest of law and order to start _breaking_ laws... he wouldn't do it, no matter what incentive he had, and Kinshiro probably wouldn't either.

"We are in a bit of a bind," Kinshiro agreed. He tapped his chin thoughtfully with one forefinger. "Atsushi, has this friend of yours ever struck you as a particularly clever type?"

"Not really," Atsushi admitted. "He's not stupid, but he isn't what you'd call an innovator."

"And his father," Kinshiro continued. "Is he likely to have put his son up to this?"

Atsushi thought about it. "I don't know. I can imagine him egging his son on to stop us, but I can't imagine him coming up with that plan and not coming down here to carry it out himself. I mean, 'you're under arrest' sounds a lot more forceful coming from the actual mayor."

"You may be right there," Kinshiro agreed. "So the most logical conclusion is that someone else put him up to it."

"But that can't be right," said Atsushi. "Who else has a stake in this? There's just us and them."

"Maybe," said Kinshiro. "And yet I can't fight the sense that something strange is going on. Can't you smell it?"

Atsushi started to say something, realized it was a serious question, and stopped to take a deep breath. What did he smell? Food and beer from the picnickers, smoke from various chimneys, churned earth and trampled grass, the piney scent of the forest, a whiff of jasmine from Kurotori's cologne, and...

"Melons?" he said aloud. "That can't be right. There aren't any melons here. This isn't even the right season for melons."

"That's what I thought I smelled," said Kinshiro grimly. "Atsushi, have you ever noticed the way every god seems to have a certain scent?"

Atsushi nodded. He'd definitely noticed. You couldn't get as close to Kinshiro as he had recently without realizing he had his own distinct scent.

"Well, what you're really sensing is that god's unique power," said Kinshiro. "It isn't really a scent, exactly. You can detect it with any of your senses, if you're paying attention. Scent just seems to be the easiest. It's a very primal sense, scent. You can't detect your own, any more than you can see your own eyes, but..."

"So what's mine, then?" Atsushi asked.

"Fresh cut grass and baking bread," Kinshiro answered promptly.

"I like that," said Atsushi. "For the record, your magic looks and feels like sunlight, and smells like green tea and incense."

"Oh," said Kinshiro. His cheeks colored slightly. "Well, that sounds... rather nice, actually."

"I think it's wonderful," said Atsushi.

Kinshiro coughed. "Yes, well... as I was saying, I think what we're both picking up is the hallmark of another god."

"You think so?" Atsushi asked dubiously.

"It would explain why he's suddenly so confident," said Kinshiro. "Most people would be, if they knew they had a god on their side. If he doesn't know we're here, he'd have no reason to believe anyone here could oppose him."

"But the god would know," said Atsushi slowly. "And he would be smart enough to know you would never break a reasonable law. And obliging people who run inns and restaurants to be licensed _is_ a good law. It means the mayor has the right to shut down a place that isn't clean or serves food that makes people sick."

"So we're up against someone clever and subtle, but probably not very powerful," said Kinshiro thoughtfully. "If it were a major god, I'd remember the scent, but I don't remember off hand who smells like melons. Probably the local crossroads god. I'll have someone look him up and see what I can find out. In the meantime..."

"In the meantime," said Atsushi, "we need to go talk to Arima and Endou and start talking about what we're going to do next."

Kinshiro nodded. "I'm sure if we put our heads together, we can come up with some kind of solution."

"Don't worry," said Atsushi, smiling a little. "I think I already know that. The first thing we're going to need is some paint..."


	5. A Night on the Town

"...and they actually listened to me!" Enkaku exulted.

Uriya nodded solemnly. Enkaku had already told him at least three times that they actually listened to him, but Uriya gathered that this was something that happened seldom enough that it was worth repeating.

"They'll be gone by tomorrow," Enkaku continued. "That was a great idea you had, the bit about the license. How did you think of it?"

"Oh, well, I've been keeping an eye on things over there," said Uriya uneasily. He had been keeping a very close eye, in fact. Close enough to know that there were two gods in residence, and that both of them had their high priests with them now. Close enough to know that their wealthy friend was actually nobility, and could probably overrule any order the mayor decided to issue if it came down to that. Close enough to know that Aurite's messengers had been coming and going a great deal, sending out pleas for help to who knew how many people. None of these were details that Uriya had felt like sharing with his new companion.

 _Maybe I ought to tell him?_ he thought, as Enkaku continued to ramble on. The two of them were alone for the time being, Uriya perched on the edge of his well while Enkaku relaxed against a tree nearby. He was so excited that he was picking up fallen leaves and shredding them without apparently realizing what he was doing. _He might be safer if he knew... but he's already committed now. Will it make any difference if he knows what he's up against? Maybe it will be okay if I just keep advising him. Or maybe there's still another option? It isn't against the rules to ask for a different price. But if I change my mind now, Aurite is still just going to take whatever he wants..._

"I have an idea," said Enkaku, bouncing to his feet. He shed little bits of torn leaf everywhere. "Let's go get drinks!"

Uriya's worries immediately switched onto a new path. On the one hand, he hadn't had anyone give him a mortal drink in years, not since the days when he had been worshiped as the local protector god. He'd have liked to have a beer or two. It wasn't like he could actually get drunk unless he wanted to. On the other hand, it would mean letting himself be seen in public. He'd have to pretend to be mortal. What if he did it wrong and people started gossiping? What if word got back to Aurite? What if Aurite actually saw him and recognized him? What if Enkaku was so exhilarated by his perceived victory that he insisted on dragging Uriya by the Cloverleaf to admire it? What if...

Too late. Enkaku had already grabbed him and started pulling him to his feet.

"Hold on, hold on!" Uriya protested. "Let me put on a human disguise first. You don't want people to see you talking to air."

Enkaku admitted that this was probably a good idea. Even with his newfound confidence, there were obviously limits to what he wanted to attempt in public. Uriya hastily pulled a human disguise around himself, discarding his green robes for the loose shirt and embroidered vest that the locals favored. No one would mistake him for a local - not in a town so small that everyone knew everyone down to how often they turned over in their beds at night - but they would at least not immediately peg him as an outsider and worthy of suspicion.

"If anyone asks," said Uriya, "I'm a nephew of the mayor of one of the neighboring towns, and your father invited me to visit you."

"Got it," said Enkaku. "You sure wouldn't be the worst person he's tried to set me up with."

They went to the Mountain's Arms. It was particularly quiet that night - nearly everyone who wanted a drink had heard there was free beer at the Cloverleaf - so Enkaku and Uriya had no trouble finding a place to sit. Enkaku swaggered up to the bar and ordered drinks for both of them, in such a loud and over-cheerful manner that Uriya wondered if Enkaku had ever actually ordered drinks in his life.

 _His father probably would tell him it's setting a bad example,_ Uriya mused. He had seen enough of the way the town worked to have a pretty good handle on how Mayor Sousa operated. Alcohol, he had no doubt, was considered a vice, a contributor to sloth and slovenliness. The fact that the mayor himself liked a couple of glasses of wine with dinner and frequently a nip of something stronger afterwards would be brushed aside.

Still, it was nice to sit down with someone who was almost a friend and share a drink. Enkaku was in the mood to talk, fantasizing about what he would do when his debt was paid and he could finally leave town. He wanted to see the world, he said - the great University, the markets of the Golden City, the legendary Seven Pillars, the bridges of Cerulean Bay... Uriya could sympathize. He hadn't been outside Binan in years. He barely knew what lay outside his borders. As a god, he could ascend to the Heavenly City whenever he wanted to, or descend to the various underworlds if he were invited, but he couldn't travel horizontally through the earthly realms without special permission from a greater god. Needless to say, that didn't happen often.

"I didn't used to be stuck here," he mumbled into his mug. "I used to be a nature spirit, you know that? Had a nice little spring all my own. Then some guy came up here hunting and got lost, and I was the guy who decided to show him where to find water and food. He built a home here. He founded this town, and it was all to thank me. Now where am I? Nobody even remembers I'm here..."

He trailed off, realizing that perhaps no one was listening to him. It also occurred to him that while at first his companion had been growing steadily louder and more expansive with every drink he downed, he had now gone rather quiet.

"Hey," said Uriya, looking at Enkaku with concern. "You still there?"

Enkaku gave him a long slow look.

"Where's the cups?" he asked.

"What?"

Enkaku waved his arm vaguely. "The cups. There used to be cups. On the wall."

For a moment, Uriya wondered if there was something he had missed - possibly something strange in the beer. Then realization clicked.

"This isn't the Cloverleaf," he said patiently. "We're at the Mountain's Arms."

He waved an arm to indicate the rest of the room, as if Enkaku might have missed it. The wall behind the bar at the Cloverleaf was adorned with shelves full of mugs, plus a few bottles of wine and more exotic spirits for the discriminating customer. The Mountain's Arms, on the other hand, had a rather inexpertly painted mural of a bear standing in front of a mountain with its paws outstretched. Enkaku kept staring at it like it was some kind of trick.

"I never unnerstood why they called it the Mountain's Arms," he said, slightly slurred. "It's a bear. Oughta call it Bear's Arms. Paws. Feet?"

Uriya gently pried the half-empty mug out of Enkaku's hand. "I think you've had enough for one night."

"Enough of what?" asked Enkaku.

"Just pay the nice man so we can go home," said Uriya.

Between the two of them, they managed to get Enkaku's purse open and count out enough coins to pay their tab. Then Uriya helped Enkaku lean against him and stagger out of the bar into the cool night.

"The irony," said Uriya, as they picked their way through the empty street, "is that I technically could have you sober in an instant, if you were willing to pay me for it. But I'm not actually allowed to make bargains with someone too drunk to know what he's offering, so that's off the table. Maybe one of us should have thought of that before we started drinking."

Enkaku tried to twist himself around so that he could look at Uriya's face. The movement nearly made him overbalance and fall, but he didn't seem to notice.

"You have really pretty eyes," he said. "Can I pet your hair?"

"Maybe later," said Uriya with a sigh.

Enkaku leaned against him and closed his eyes. "You're so nice. You're my best friend. You're so nice to me..."

He trailed off into indistinct mumbling. Uriya sighed again. It occurred to him to wonder just how honest this man was being. Yes, drunken men did occasionally turn sentimental and over-friendly, but that didn't mean this particular one wasn't telling the truth. Surely anyone who had actual friends would want to go celebrate with them, rather than someone he'd only just met, wouldn't he? What did it mean that the only person he could find to brag about his victories to was Uriya? And while he was asking himself questions, how long had it been since anyone considered Uriya his friend? He got on reasonably well with his fellow minor gods, but none of them were particularly close to him. He had always contented himself with simply being near the inhabitants of Binan, even if he didn't interact with them. Maybe it was time he changed that policy...

In a tight voice, Enkaku said, "I think I'm going to be sick."

Uriya had just enough time to haul Enkaku to the side of the road before suspicion became certainty. Uriya stood by patiently, holding Enkaku steady while he aired his grievances.

 _Best friend, huh?_ Uriya thought. _Oh, well. I suppose I could do worse._

Eventually, Enkaku straightened up and wiped his mouth clumsily on one sleeve.

"Ugh," he said. "Can we go home now?"

"Yeah, we can," Uriya assured him. "Just a little further. I'll get you there."

As they stumbled away again, Uriya waved a hand and made the mess by the side of the road vanish. His bag of tricks might be severely limited, but what was the point of being a town guardian if you couldn't look after your town a little?

Soon they were drawing near to Enkaku's home, and Uriya found himself with a whole new problem: namely, how to actually get Enkaku inside. He _could_ just drop him off on the doorstep and trust him to get himself to his room, but that was risky. In the state the young man was in now, Uriya didn't trust him not to wander off in a daze, or just collapse on the doorstep to be found and ridiculed in the morning. They could try to sneak in, but that would almost inevitably lead to them getting caught, and Uriya didn't care to be treated like a burglar or any of the other things he might be called if they saw him trying to get into an incapacitated young man's room. He could knock on the door and get someone else to take Enkaku in hand, but that would lead to Enkaku getting lectured and probably confined to his room until he was fifty, not to mention subjecting Uriya to questions he probably couldn't answer.

It fleetingly occurred to him that maybe he should have just taken Enkaku to the Cloverleaf. Whatever else was going on, Uriya was sure that Atsushi would make sure he was safely tucked into bed and watched over, and that there was someone to explain to his father in the morning.

 _And that would be a rotten way to treat a friend._

Seized by an impulse that he was certain he was going to regret, Uriya hauled Enkaku the last few yards up to the front of the mayor's house, deposited him on the foot of the stairs, and pounded on the door. He'd just had time to ask himself why he'd done such a stupid thing when the door was jerked open by a large frowning man.

"What is that infernal noise?" Mayor Sousa demanded.

Enkaku, swaying gently on the bottom step, looked up at his father.

"Hi, Dad," he said. "Boy, you're tall."

Mayor Sousa turned his attention to Uriya. "What is the meaning of this?"

"He's had too much to drink," said Uriya. "I'm sorry. It was my fault. I was buying the drinks, and I didn't realize he'd gotten this far. I thought it only right to make sure he got home safely."

"That was extremely irresponsible behavior," the mayor boomed. "I should..."

"Yes, I agree," said Uriya, talking over him, "but in the meantime, I really think your son should be inside."

Both of them turned to look at Enkaku. He had lost interest in the conversation and was now sitting on the steps, looking up at the sky and singing to himself. Uriya was a bit surprised. Enkaku had seemed rather sheltered to have learned lyrics like that.

"We'll take care of him," said Mayor Sousa.

He seized his son by one arm and more or less carried him into the house. He slammed the door behind him. Uriya waited a moment, just in case anyone looked out to say a final word to him. When no one did, he went invisible and walked straight through the wall. He knew his way around the mayoral household reasonably well. This particular building had been home to generations of mayors, and Uriya had explored it more than once. Now he walked confidently up the stairs towards the main living quarters. From there, it was easy enough to follow the sound of voices to Enkaku's room.

From the sound of things, a servant was trying to get Enkaku out of his day clothes and into his nightgown with minimal cooperation from him, while Mayor Sousa attempted to lecture someone who wouldn't gratify him by listening. Under other circumstances, it might have been funny. As it was, Uriya just found a wall to lean against and waited for it all to be over. Eventually, the mayor stalked out in a huff, the servant departed with an armload of beer-scented clothes, and everything became quiet. Uriya slipped through the closed door and let himself phase back into view again. Enkaku was lying in his bed, apparently already out cold.

"They didn't even set anyone to watch you," said Uriya indignantly. "That's not safe."

Enkaku mumbled something unintelligible. Uriya decided to take it as agreement.

"It's okay," he said, pulling up a chair. "I'll watch you tonight. It's the least I can do after getting you into all this trouble."

Enkaku mumbled something else, and this time Uriya thought he caught his name somewhere in the gibberish. Enkaku's hand waved vaguely above the blankets.

"Hey, simmer down!" Uriya warned him. "You're going to have your dad back in here if you make noise."

He grabbed Enkaku's hand and tried to settle him. Immediately, Enkaku became calm and still. Uriya sighed with relief, but when he tried to pull away, the hand gripping his tightened, and Enkaku made a distressed little noise.

"Well, all right," said Uriya. He settled back in his chair and tried to make himself comfortable. "But I want you to know this is beneath my dignity as a god. You're lucky I'm giving you this as a freebie. I'd be within my rights to make you pay for it."

Enkaku gave a contented little murmur and settled into a deeper sleep. Uriya sighed again. He beckoned to a book on the nearby shelf, and it jumped obediently into his hand. He settled it in his lap and used his free hand to open it to the first page, and resigned himself to a long night.

* * *

The next morning was a busy one. Everyone had awakened early, even Kurotori, although he had been dispatched almost immediately after breakfast, sent off to the Kurotama to get him out from underfoot. Everyone else had occupied themselves with cleaning and making repairs since sunrise. Even Kinshiro pitched in with the scrubbing and polishing. Atsushi had kept himself out of sight most of the morning, either working in the kitchen or moving invisibly among his flock of helpers, easing the work and quietly soothing tempers. Everyone was in a hurry, wanting to get as much done as possible.

At the moment, the front door was open, and Arima was busy with a broom, sweeping the dust and debris that the carpenters had generated out into the street. He was humming contentedly, happy with his lot, when he heard a familiar voice in his mind tell him, _Brace yourself - company's coming._

It was, he reflected, very convenient at times to have a direct connection to a god. He arranged himself a bit more squarely in front of the door to block any unwelcome guests.

His caution proved valuable when Mayor Sousa swaggered up. He glared at Arima, who smiled his usual vague smile in return.

"Good morning," he said. "May I help you?"

"You can explain why you're still here," the mayor snapped. "My son assured me that you'd be out of here by this morning."

"I'm afraid not," said Arima pleasantly.

"If you aren't out of here before noon," Sousa replied, "I'll be back here with the town watch to haul you to jail."

Arima feigned surprise. "Really? On what grounds? I wasn't aware I was breaking any laws."

"The law against operating an inn without a license!" Sousa snapped. "My son assured me that he'd informed you..."

"Ahh," said Arima, nodding sagely, "I think I see the source of the misunderstanding. I was under the impression that I would have to leave by this morning _only_ if I were operating an inn without a license, as you say. I did not take it to mean that I was to be gone by this morning regardless of the circumstances."

"That is entirely irrelevant," said Sousa, his ruddy face growing redder. "There _are_ no other circumstances. You're operating an inn, and you don't have a license. Therefore, it's my duty to the town to have you arrested."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken," said Arima pleasantly. "I'm not operating an inn."

Sousa blinked at him. "What?"

"Technically, I'm not operating anything at all," Arima continued. "I'm here simply to help. If you want the man in charge, you'll have to speak to someone else. Also, this isn't an inn."

Now the mayor was gaping at him. "I beg your pardon?"

In reply, Arima pointed above their heads, to where the signboard was swinging gently in the breeze. It had just been re-hung that morning, and its fresh paint glistened in the sun. The four-leaf clover that had originally been there had been touched up by Kurotori's delicate hand, but now the text was different. Where the sign had once read "Cloverleaf Inn" across the top and "Beer - Food - Rooms" across the bottom, the sign now read "Temple of Epinard: All Are Welcome". The mayor stared at it.

"What is this all about?" he demanded.

"I told you once before," said Arima, in his most reasonable tones. "This site is sacred to the god Epinard. Now, I may be unfamiliar with local regulations, but I have never yet heard of a place where one needed a license to worship the gods."

"Yes... but... this isn't a real temple!" Sousa shouted. "It's just the Cloverleaf Inn with a new sign."

"Yes," said Arima. "We had to change the sign. It would be misleading otherwise, letting people think that this was still an inn when it's not. Everyone was so fond of the place."

"You were serving food," Sousa pointed out. "Everyone saw you."

Aurite shrugged. "Epinard is the god of mercy. If he sees fit to assuage the hunger of his people, who are we to argue? It wasn't as if we charged money for any of it."

"But this can't be a temple!" Sousa insisted. "To be a temple you need priests and altars and services and things! And don't tell me you're a priest," he added, shaking a finger at Arima. "You may or may not be a priest of Aurite, but you can't be that _and_ a priest of this other person."

"Goodness, no," said Arima, in his most scandalized tones. "I am unwavering in my devotion to Aurite. As I said, I don't pretend to be in charge here. It's Priest Endou who is the authority. Would you like to speak to him?"

"Endou?" Sousa repeated. "That old drunk? Look, if you're going to lie, make it convincing. He can't be a priest. He can barely stand up."

"I think you'll find that the gods can work incredible changes in a man," said Arima. "His becoming Epinard's high priest has endowed him with certain blessings, sobriety apparently being one of them. Also, we've been converting him to the appreciation of good tea. Did you know," he went on conversationally, "that before he came here, he'd _never_ had a decent cup of tea? That sister he lives with only buys last year's stale fannings, and then she tries to make them last longer by using half as much as she should and making up for it by steeping them twice as long, and the gods only know what temperature she was heating the water to. As soon as Epinard explained that to me, I fixed the poor man a nice strong cup of good quality black tea with a dash of cream and honey, and he didn't even recognize it as the same drink."

Sousa took in this stream of gossipy chatter with a slightly stunned expression. Arima continued to smile. He hadn't known that particular scrap of gossip until last night, when Atsushi had told him. Being an innkeeper was nearly as good as being a god when it came to finding out everything about people, at least on a local level. Apparently Sousa didn't think someone he still classified as a stranger should know so much about local goings-on.

"I don't believe a word of this," Sousa said at last.

Arima shook his head sadly. "The ways of the gods are often mysterious. You must have faith. Perhaps you'd like to attend services later?"

"Services?" Sousa repeated, eyes popping.

"Oh, yes," said Arima. "We're going to have a service at seven bells this evening, with litanies and music and everything. I'm sure it will be enlightening."

"A service," said Sousa again, his tone tinged with doubt.

"I'm looking forward to it," said Arima pleasantly. "It's been some time since I've simply been able to listen to a service without having to participate."

"You," said Sousa, "are all crazy. I don't know what kind of stunt you're trying to pull, but when I figure it out, you're going to regret it."

"Should I take it, then, that for the moment, I am not under arrest?" Arima asked.

"Oh... go to the Abyss!" Sousa snapped, and turned to stomp away.

Arima only smiled. "That, I believe, is for Aurite to decide."

Sousa only harrumphed and walked faster. Arima watched him go, feeling accomplished.

A warm puff of air scented with green tea and incense swirled around him, announcing Aruite's presence. Arima turned to face him.

"You aren't planning on sending me to the Abyss any time soon, are you?" he asked.

"Not hardly," said Aurite with fervor. "I plan on keeping you close at hand for a long, long time - in part because I enjoy watching how you handle windbags like him."

"It is one of the more satisfying parts of the job," Arima agreed. "I'm glad you approve."

"You're doing a flawless job," said Aurite. "Keep up the good work. In the meantime," he continued, "I'm going to the back yard to help with the carpentry."

He vanished in a swirl of golden light. Arima set back to his work with a sense of contentment. He could hardly feel put-upon doing such a humble task as sweeping the floor when he knew Aurite was in the back yard helping haul lumber and move wheelbarrows of earth. And while he was working, he could amuse himself of thoughts of what might happen if anyone from the mayor's office came to tonight's service.

* * *

The sun was far brighter than it should have been. Enkaku's window was north-facing, and screened by thick curtains. There was no possible way that the sun should have been doing what it was, which was blazing into his face as if it were pressed against his window.

"Ngh," he said, and tried to raise an arm to shield his face. His head hurt. His stomach wasn't feeling so great either. Even with his eyes mercifully free from the sunbeams that had been stabbing into them, they still ached. At the moment, he wasn't sure there was any part of him that _didn't_ ache.

"Let me guess," said a detached voice, near enough to make him wince with fresh pain, "you have a hangover."

"Argh," he agreed.

"See, this is why I don't usually go around giving humans the power to get anything they ask for. They usually ask for things that are bad for them."

"Eurgh."

"And I suppose you want it to go away."

"Ugh," said Enkaku, and tried to bury himself under the blankets.

"I can make it stop if you promise me something to eat in exchange."

The thought of even someone else eating anything made Enkaku's insides twist. He whimpered slightly and hoped that would be enough.

"All right, then," said the voice. "Brace yourself."

Someone took his hand and squeezed it, and Enkaku felt a sensation as if something was being forcefully drawn out of him, starting at the crown of his head and soles of his feet, gathering in his middle, and then passing out through his palm. His stomach gave such a violent heave that he thought for certain that he was about to be sick. Then, just as suddenly, everything settled. His headache dissipated as if it had never been there at all. Cautiously, he lowered his arm and opened his eyes. The sun, it seemed, had retreated to its proper place, and his room was pleasantly dim as usual.

"Feeling better now?" asked the voice next to him.

Enkaku rolled onto his side and saw with some surprise that Uriya was sitting in his desk chair. A little end table was pulled up next to him, and a stack of Enkaku's favorite books was resting on it. Another book sat open in Uriya's lap, with his finger resting in the crease to mark his place. Enkaku blinked.

"Were you sitting there all night?" he asked.

Uriya blushed. "Well, you'd passed out. Someone had to keep an eye on you."

"How come you didn't just fix me then?" Enkaku asked.

"Because I can't give you anything like that without you asking for it," Uriya explained. "Or at least, without you agreeing to pay for it. Nothing that takes magic, I mean. There's nothing in the rules that says I can't stay the night in someone's room if I feel like it, but actually sobering you up again takes power, and you'd have had to pay me. I don't think it's allowed for me to make bargains with people who aren't sober enough to know what they're asking for. I mean, I guess I could have done it first and arranged payment after, but I'm not sure that would be very fair either. I guess I could argue that obviously you'd want to be healed, but maybe you wouldn't have wanted it enough to want to pay for it. Even if I don't ask for very much for something small like that..."

"It's okay, really," said Enkaku, heading off the flow of confused chatter. "I don't mind if you want to fix me when I'm sick or hurt. I can afford to pay things."

Uriya looked uncomfortable. "It's not always that easy. Look, how about I get us both something to eat, and we can talk about it after that?"

Enkaku agreed that this was a good idea, so Uriya vanished, leaving the book he'd been reading to drop into his vacated seat. Enkaku set about pulling himself into a seated position. He wondered if he ought to change his clothes. Someone, he saw, had gotten him out of yesterday's clothes and into his nightgown. He truly hoped it hadn't been Uriya. He didn't mind being looked after a little bit, but some things were just too much. Just being seen in his nightclothes was bad enough. Uriya always looked so polished with his sleek hair and elegant green robes.

 _What was I saying last night, anyway? Was I flirting with him? Vesta help me, I think I was..._

He shook his head vigorously, trying to get that thought out of his mind. He'd been drunk, after all. Surely someone who had been around as long as Uriya had would have heard people saying all sorts of things while under the influence. He probably wouldn't attach much importance to anything Enkaku had said.

 _He is awfully good-looking, though. Too bad._

Uriya reappeared, carrying two trays of food. Enkaku was gratified to see that he'd remembered the mushrooms.

"Don't worry," said Uriya. "I put it into the mind of the maid that she already brought you up a tray. Nobody will think to come in and bother us for a while. They might wonder where the extra food went, though. Maybe I should make the cook think there was an accident and they had to make up a second tray..."

"Don't worry about it," said Enkaku, before Uriya could start twisting himself into mental knots again. "A lot goes to waste around here anyway. They probably won't notice."

"Ahh," said Uriya. "Someone should put that right. It's not good for anyone to waste things. Maybe I ought to do something about it. Or drop a line to Sulfur and let him deal with it."

"So what were you saying about paying for things?" asked Enkaku, to get Uriya back on track. He forked up some eggs and mushrooms and began eating with a will. He sighed with contentment.

"Oh, right," said Uriya. He set the book he'd been reading aside, carefully juggling his own tray of food, and settled back into his seat. "Well, it has to do with the way gods work. Have you ever thought about what gods really are?"

"Not really," said Enkaku. "I guess I always thought they were like really powerful wizards - like people, but with a lot of extra magic."

"Well, it's not quite like that," said Uriya. "It's more like we're the embodiments of ideas. Some of us embody big ideas, like the idea of rain or justice or springtime. Those are the really big important gods, the ones with a lot of worshipers. They get power from their followers' prayers and offerings. Even people who don't actually worship them still think about the things they represent, and that gives them power too. Gods like me, though, the crossroads gods and nature spirits, we're just small ideas. Most of us don't have a lot of power or any worshipers, so we have to make do with what we've got. That's why we make bargains instead."

"They say," said Enkaku slowly, "that a crossroad god could give you the whole world if you gave them something as valuable as the world in return."

Uriya nodded. "That's it - an equal exchange. And it has to be something _we_ consider worth it. You wouldn't believe the number of people who come to a crossroads god and say 'hey, I'll give you this beautiful virgin if you'll give me the kingdom' only to get told 'I'll only do that if you bring me five pounds of emeralds, a flask of water from Pearlite's sacred spring, and a tooth from a still-living dragon'. People are always looking for ways to cheat us, but what they don't understand is that it will never work because we only have as much power as they give us. We couldn't cheat the system even if we wanted to, not unless we get important enough to have worshipers of our own."

"Is that why you wanted the inn?" Enkaku asked. "So you could have a temple of your own?"

"Something like that," said Uriya.

"Well, I don't think that's such a bad thing," said Enkaku. "I hate it when everyone ignores me. It's got to be tough, being all alone with no one to notice you."

"It's not the best," Uriya admitted. "I don't even have any attendants to keep me company."

"I guess not many people want to spend the rest of eternity being a servant," said Enkaku.

"It isn't always like that," said Uriya. "It really kind of depends on what sort of god you're working for. Aurite's attendants mostly act as clerks and errand runners, but his people generally _like_ hard work so I guess that's okay. But Pearlite treats his like family - they spend most of their time sitting around gossiping and doing embroidery and braiding each other's hair. To tell the truth, attendants to crossroads gods don't usually do a lot of work because we really don't have anything we need them to do. Mostly, when we have attendants, it's because they were someone we were friends with when they were alive. Sometimes they even get married - the gods to the attendants, I mean."

"Oh," said Enkaku. He tried not to blush. He had been working under the assumption that gods and mortals didn't really mix - not to that extent, anyway. "I didn't know that was, um, allowed."

Uriya shrugged. "It doesn't happen often, but it happens. I mean, Vesta used to do some serious running around before he got married and settled down. Even Aurite..." he trailed off. Enkaku sat up a little straighter, suddenly interested.

"What about him?" he asked. The last he'd heard, Aurite was still abiding by his own strict no-sex-before-marriage rules.

"I don't know if I ought to tell you this," said Uriya, squirming in his seat, "but I guess it's going to come out eventually anyway. Aurite got married a couple of weeks ago, to someone who started out as human before he ascended to godhood. I think they're keeping it quiet for now because they don't want a lot of people pestering them while they're on their honeymoon."

"Wow," said Enkaku, impressed. He wondered what sort of a person would have attracted someone as notoriously aloof as Aurite.

Uriya nodded. "Anyway, a lot of people seem to prefer being attendants to being in one of the underworlds. Even in the Land of the Blessed Dead, nothing ever really happens. Every day is pretty much like every other day. At least in the Heavenly City, we're in touch with the mortal world still. It's more interesting, and people seem to like being able to work to make the world better even after they've left it."

"I can understand that," said Enkaku. "I might like that better, too."

Uriya gave a half-smile. "Are you saying you want to be my attendant?"

"Maybe," said Enkaku. He smiled back. "Tell you what - how's this for a bargain? If gods really do get stronger from being worshiped, then I promise that if I ever manage to get out of this town and away from my parents, I'll make sure to thank you for it every day and leave an offering at every shrine I come to, and I'll tell people it was thanks to you that I got out."

"If you do that," said Uriya seriously, "then I promise I'll be the one to claim you when your time comes."

They shook on it, very solemnly. Then Enkaku smiled.

"You know," he said, "I really believe this is going to work. I really am going to get out of here soon."

Uriya didn't smile. His expression was very serious as he said, "You're right. You are going to make it. I'll see to it, no matter what it takes."


	6. Epinard's First Command

The next visitors to the inn came by mail.

There wasn't much of a mail system in that part of the world. It could hardly be called a system at all - just a sturdy delivery wagon that made a circuit from Binan to a few other nearby towns and back, delivering letters, parcels, and the occasional traveler. It wasn't the fastest way to get a message from here to there, but for sending casual letters and ordering special purchases from the larger towns, it was cheaper than a special messenger and just as reliable. Delivering people was less common, but it happened occasionally. Atsushi, therefore, was barely surprised at all when the mail wagon paused outside his new temple and let out two young men.

"Hey, Arima," he called, "are these more of your friends?"

Arima, who had been helping him clean up after the carpenters' lunch break, looked out the window and smiled.

"Why, yes," he said. "I do believe they are."

He abandoned his dishrag and started for the front door, and Atsushi, deciding dishes could wait, went invisible and followed him. Outside, one of the newcomers was unloading their luggage while the other counted out coins to pay the driver. Both the young men looked to be about the same age as Atsushi and Arima - about twenty-five, give or take a year or two. One of them was a redhead with a soft, gentle face. The other wore glasses and had a sharp featured, haughty expression. He was dressed in the same sort of gold-trimmed black robes that Arima wore. Atsushi, who had spent enough time around merchants to have a good idea of quality fabric and good tailoring, surmised from this man's garments that whatever temple he served was probably an important one. The other had the look of a moderately well-to-do shopkeeper rather than a priest, but it was clear from the way the two interacted that they'd been traveling together and were on intimate terms with one another.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," said Arima, approaching the two of them.

The robed one bowed. "Greetings, Holiness."

Arima bowed back - not so deeply as his cohort had, but enough to show respect. "It's good to see you again, Itsumo. I hope you and your husband are both well?"

"Very well, thank you," said the man called Itsumo.

The other young man put himself forward, and Arima turned to shake his hand.

"Hi, Arima. We heard you were in a bind, so we thought we'd come see what we could do to help."

"Thank you, Shou. The truth is, we certainly could use your help," Arima replied. "But we can discuss that in more detail after you're both settled inside. First I want to hear how things have been going with you. The temple prospers, I hope? And your shop? How are your little girls?"

Shou beamed. "Getting cuter every day. Hana helps me in the shop, and Junko's taken to temple life like a duck to water. They're with my ma now, getting spoiled rotten, probably. She was so excited when she heard we'd decided to adopt..."

He continued to chatter about such small homely things while he helped carry the luggage inside. Itsumo and Arima had a small, polite argument about whether or not Arima should be allowed to help carry it in as well, but in the end, it all got moved up to one of the larger empty bedrooms. While they were sorting that out, Kinshiro slipped in through the back to fill Atsushi in on the details.

"I had a feeling those two were going to show up," he remarked, as he leaned against the wall next to Atsushi.

"Who are they?" Atsushi asked.

"Ichiban and Shou Itsumo," said Kinshiro. "Ichiban is the chief priest of one of my temples. He and his husband are both good friends of Arima's - in fact, they met through him. Arima and Shou were traveling together and stopped at the temple for a while, and Shou never left. A bit of a collaboration between Vesta and me," he added with a small smile. "Poor Ichiban had his heart so set on becoming high priest someday, and I knew that wasn't going to happen. I thought it would be good to find something else that might make him happy."

Atsushi laughed. "And they say you needed me to soften you up. You're really sentimental at heart, aren't you?"

"Hmph," said Kinshiro. "I am absolutely fair. Ichiban was a faithful priest and a hard worker, and he deserved some form of compensation."

"I'm not criticizing you," said Atsushi, still laughing. "No need to get defensive."

Their friendly squabble was interrupted by Arima and his friends coming back down the stairs. The three of them settled around one of the tables to begin comparing notes.

"So, what is this problem you said you were having?" Itsumo asked. "Your message was rather vague."

"The matter is simply this," said Arima. "Our lord Aruite has taken a consort - Epinard, the god of mercy." He paused a moment while his companions expressed their surprise. "This is, of course, very good news, but the fact of the matter is that Epinard has claimed this particular location as the site of his first temple. He has a certain sentimental attachment to it, you see. The problem is that the mayor of this town is attempting to seize it through unlawful means."

"That can't be allowed," said Itsumo firmly. "Even if this hadn't been claimed as a holy site, we can't allow that sort of underhanded dealing."

"My sentiments exactly," said Arima. "Unfortunately, the mayor isn't listening to me when I say that now is the time to back off before the gods decide to get involved personally."

"Why wouldn't he listen to you?" asked Shou. "I mean, you're the high priest. You're practically more important than the king."

"It's amazing," said Arima, "what a man can make himself believe when to do otherwise would mean admitting he's in the wrong. In this case, he's claiming that any man can put on a robe and rattle off a few important-sounding words and claim he's a priest. There's no easy way for him to know for certain that I am who I say I am, short of going to Seven Pillars himself and asking at the temple. That's one reason I've been asking help from people who know me - people like you and Lord Kurotori who know me well and can back me up when I say I am who I say I am. That's aside from the fact that you all have your own particular skills. Kurotori is nobility, and he can throw money around like midwinter sweets. You, Itsumo, have at least one qualification that I lack."

Itsumo looked dubious. "And what is that?"

"Force of personality," said Arima. "I know my own strengths and weaknesses. I'm good at smiling and pretending not to understand what's going on while I get my plans arranged and ready to unfold, but I'm not good at impressing people. I draw people into the fold by being down-to-earth and approachable and making people feel welcome, and there's a time and place for that. But the gods are also awesome and terrifying at times, and people need to be reminded of that from time to time as well. That's _your_ strength."

"I see," said Itsumo slowly. "So what you're saying is you want me to put the fear of Aurite into this mayor character?"

"That's exactly what I want," said Arima.

Itsumo was still for a moment. Then, gradually, he smiled. "I think I can do that."

"You'll do great," said Shou, smiling proudly at him. "When you go into one of your plunge-into-the-Abyss sin and damnation speeches, you can even give me the chills, and I _know_ you."

Itsumo seemed to take this as a compliment. The two of them shared a smile, and Arima looked on benignly, rather like a proud parent.

"I value your testimony too, you know," he said. "Itsumo may be an important man, but you've known me longer than he has and can give a fuller account of my character."

"You mean I can tell anyone who asks about the time you fought off an entire band of heavily armed men to rescue me? Yeah, I can do that," said Shou. "And I can help out with the building and things. I'm no carpenter, but I can use a hammer as well as anybody if someone tells me where to put the nails."

"We can use all the help we can get," said Arima. "This is going to be a very big job, I'm sure."

"We can stay here as long as you need us," Itsumo assured him. "Although I have no doubt we'll be able to sort out your problems with the mayor fairly quickly. I don't think I flatter myself when I say I have some skill at dealing with these types."

Shou rested a hand on his shoulder. "There's no need to hurry, anyway. The kids will be fine with their grandparents for a while, and your trainees have the temple in hand. We haven't had a real vacation since our honeymoon. We ought to take advantage of this."

Itsumo's fair cheeks colored slightly. "We wouldn't want to impose on our hosts' hospitality."

"There is no imposition," Arima assured them both. "Please stay as long as you both like."

Both men looked reassured at this, and Atsushi couldn't help smiling.

"Cute couple," he observed, as Arima showed them both outside to have a look at the construction.

"I suppose so," said Kinshiro, with an air that suggested he had really never given any thought to whether they were cute or not. "It's good that they're here, anyway. Arima's right - we _can_ use help, if we aren't going to step in and miracle this mess away. We might have to do that anyway."

"Have you figured out where that power you sensed was coming from?" Atsushi asked.

Kinshiro nodded. "It was as I thought - one of the minor local gods has gotten involved. Your own personal town guardian, in fact. His name is Uriya." Kinshiro frowned. "And he isn't the sort I'd usually expect to cause trouble. He's more the kind who spends an hour arguing with himself over what he wants for dinner. He doesn't even interact with the locals very often. I don't know why he's suddenly getting mixed up in things now."

"Maybe it's just a weird coincidence," Atsushi suggested.

"It can't be," said Kinshiro. "Not entirely. He's a town guardian - he'd _have_ to know we're here. He was watching us. No, somebody's up to something, and I'd give a great deal to know what."

"Should we go confront him, do you think?" asked Atsushi uneasily. Judging mortals was hard enough. He wasn't certain he wanted to make his life doubly complicated by picking a fight with another god.

Kinshiro frowned. "I'm not sure. We could try, but I expect he'd probably just retreat to his private space and refuse to talk to us. Even I can't force him out if he does that, not without a better reason that I've got. There's no proof yet that he's actually done anything wrong."

"He's helping them take the Cloverleaf away," Atsushi pointed out.

"Maybe," said Kinshiro. "Or maybe he only gave that boy something to give him more confidence. We don't know. We need more information."

"Maybe I can get it," said Atsushi.

Kinshiro looked at him curiously. "How do you mean?"

"Well, I'm not doing much here besides cooking," said Atsushi, "and you and Arima can do that at a pinch, or get some of the neighbors to pitch in. I can't show my face around here because everyone thinks I'm dead, and even if I disguise myself, people are going to wonder where I came from. What I can do is get out and listen to people. I've lived here all my life. I know where all the gossips are. They'll know what Enkaku has been up to lately. If he's been acting weird, they'll say something. That might give us a clue. I could even hang around his house and watch him myself for a while."

"It couldn't hurt," Kinshiro agreed. "As a last resort, we could try reading his mind, but that's not something we're supposed to do without a good reason. It's a violation of privacy otherwise."

Atsushi nodded. "Don't worry. I think I can probably find out at least something without going that far."

"Good," said Kinshiro. "Then I'll trust you to do what you can." He smiled a little. "Just don't stay out all night. You don't want to miss your first worship service."

Atsushi laughed. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Good luck, then," said Kinshiro. He smiled a little. "If you're going to be out snooping, I suppose I had better start getting dinner ready."

"I'll be back in time to help you finish up," Atsushi promised.

Then he disappeared, leaving the familiar confines of his inn for more varied surroundings. In a way, it was something of a relief. Having barely left the building for a couple of days, it was nice to remember how freely he could move now that he was a god. The first few days of his marriage, he and Kinshiro had been to see a play in the Sunlit Isles, gone skating on a pond in the Eternal Mountains, and eaten dinner in the Jade Empire, all in the same day. There was so much world out there that he'd never dreamed he'd have a chance to see, places he'd never even heard of before Kinshiro and his other new friends had shown them to him.

 _I couldn't stay here forever - not now that I know how much else there is to see in the world,_ he thought. But that didn't mean he didn't still love the Cloverleaf, and he was going to protect it no matter what.

 _Well, then, better get to work,_ he told himself, and slipped into the marketplace.

* * *

One of the things priests did was visit people. There was, in fact, an entire class of wandering priests who did nothing but go from place to place, visiting the isolated farmhouses and the towns too small to have temples and priests of their own. Even an important priest in a large town like the one where Itsumo served often paid visits to his congregation to address their individual concerns, offer support, and generally make it known that he was available if they needed him. He'd been doing that a lot more since he got married. Part of that was because his parishioners were curious about his new husband, and part of it was that Shou was still shy around new people and dealt with them better when he met them two or three at a time, rather than having to cope with the entire congregation at once. It had helped, too. Attendance had gone up considerably when the people of the city had begun to see him as not an unapproachable figure in a pulpit, but of a man who adored his husband and doted on his two children.

He wasn't too thrilled about making this particular visit, though. Still, it was necessary, so he forced himself to be patient and endure. At least he had never lost his trick of making himself seem unemotional and detached no matter what he was feeling.

Across from him, the mayor took a sip of his tea and dabbed his lips rather ostentatiously with a napkin.

"So, you're from Whitestone," he said. "I believe I heard your father preach once, while I was visiting an acquaintance there. He was a formidable presence. Now that I think of it, I can see the resemblance between you."

Itsumo somewhat doubted anyone would be able to discern a resemblance between anyone and a man they had probably only seen briefly and at a distance. He said mildly, "I'm doing my best to uphold his traditions."

"As is right and proper for a priest of law and order," Mayor Sousa agreed. "And on that note, there is a matter on those lines I would like to talk to you about."

"I am always available to consult on matters pertaining to our lord Aurite," said Itsusmo mildly.

"Well, this is more of a tangential matter," said Sousa. "I suppose you know by now that there is a man staying at the Cloverleaf Inn who claims to be the high priest of Aurite."

"Arima? Yes, he's a friend of mine," said Itsumo.

He was not surprised to see the mayor's face fall. "Oh... really?"

"Of course," said Itsusmo. "My husband and I have known him for years."

"Ah."

Itsusmo saw the mayor's face twist slightly at the mention of a husband, and even though his expression never changed, he gritted his teeth just a little. Most of the world managed to be tolerant of the idea of people marrying in various gender combinations. After all, the prevailing opinion went, the gods themselves didn't seem to be bothered by that sort of thing. They didn't hold themselves to any sort of strict gender binary. The goddess of cooking, for example, spent at least half her time as the god of cooking, and the goddess of healing was sometimes also the god of medicine, maintaining that it was impossible to truly minister to human needs without understanding all the variations their bodies could take. There were some gods who didn't fit neatly into any sort of category. There was a reason why they preferred the word "consort" over gender specific words like "husband" or "wife". Even so, there were humans who still objected to the idea of, for example, a man marrying another man. They argued that of course the gods could do whatever they wanted, but they were _gods_ , not human beings. They were under no pressure to have children and continue a family line because they were immortal. Humans were not expected to follow their example.

Itsumo found this attitude both reprehensible and ridiculous.

"Arima is the one who introduced us, as a matter of fact," he went on. "He officiated at our wedding."

"So what you're saying," said Sousa, grasping at the point that was most relevant to him, "is that this man really is the high priest he claims to be?"

Itsusmo arched an eyebrow and adjusted his glasses in the manner he had long ago learned tended to make people feel about an inch tall.

"Was there ever any doubt?" he asked.

"Well, ah," said Sousa, looking flustered, "you know how it is. A strange man shows up out of nowhere with nothing to prove his credentials..."

"I see," said Itsumo. "And you assumed that Lord Aurite, enforcer of law and order, would be perfectly content to let this man not only misuse his name, but to impersonate his most favored servant?"

The mayor's cheeks went red. "I wouldn't exactly put it like that..."

"Do you really have that little faith in the gods?" Itsusmo continued, as if he hadn't heard. "Or did you think to take matters into your own hands - that you could handle it better than they could?"

"I was only trying to do my job," the mayor huffed. "It's my place to keep cheats and vagabonds from taking advantage of my citizens."

"Well, now you know he is neither," said Itsumo. "I've known him for something like five years. He's always been willing to advise me in times of confusion. I've attended services under his leadership. When my daughter is old enough, I hope to send her to serve as an initiate with him. His validity as high priest was confirmed to me by Aurite himself. Anything he says in his role as priest should be taken as the word of Aurite. Do you understand?"

"Well, yes," said Sousa, "but how do I know when he's speaking in his role as high priest?"

"Generally speaking, when he is talking about matters pertaining to Aurite and his laws," said Itsumo. "And that includes matters pertaining to his new consort. If he says the old inn is sacred ground, then it is. My advice to you is not to interfere. Find your son some other job. Even better, let your son find his own job. He's a man - he should be living for himself, not letting you decide his life for him."

Mayor Sousa's face had gone purple with suppressed anger and embarrassment.

"I thank you for your advice," he said stiffly. "I'll take it under consideration."

"See that you do," said Itsumo. His expression became even more serious than usual. "Don't think the gods aren't paying attention to you. This may be your last warning. Aurite is a fair god, but not always a kind one. Stop what you're doing, ask for forgiveness, and find something else to spend your time on. Otherwise, you may find yourself explaining your actions to Aruite personally."

"Allow me to show you to the door," said Sousa.

Itsusmo allowed himself to be shown. He judged that he had done his duty and there wasn't much more he could accomplish there. Instead, he bid the most polite goodbye he could muster and started back the way he had come.

"Some people," he mused, "just don't listen."

Meanwhile, deeper inside the house, Enkaku was talking to the cook regarding dinner. He had just discovered that the night's main dish would be a kind of souffle which his mother particularly liked and which he'd always considered bland and unappetizing. He was attempting to persuade the cook to add a little something extra to the meal, something he would actually want to eat. The cook, who knew his job well, was protesting that the master of the house would object to what he considered a waste of food. Enkaku pointed out - quite reasonably, he thought - that if he wasn't going to eat the souffle either, that would be a waste too. Emboldened, he went on to point out that food had been wasted for _years_ because people kept telling him not to eat the things he wanted to eat and serving things he didn't want to eat. He thought he was making a good argument in his favor, but the cook was adamant.

 _I will be so glad when this is over and I never have to put up with this again,_ he thought. He toyed with his ring. All he needed was the right opening...

He didn't get it. Before he could even open his mouth, there was the sound of a door being flung open, and he turned to see his father burst into the room. The cook took one look at him, gave a little yelp, and went scurrying back up the passage. Judging by the look on his father's face, Enkaku thought the cook had the right idea. He turned and began trying to edge away.

"Oh, no you don't," his father snapped. He seized Enkaku by one arm and dragged him back to face him. "I want to have some words with you."

"Let me go!" Enkaku protested.

"Not until we have a talk," said his father. "Do you have any idea how much you've embarrassed me today?"

"What did I do?" Enkaku asked. "I didn't do anything!"

"You were the one who started threatening to have people put in jail," his father snapped. "I didn't tell you to do that - you came up with that on your own. Now I have some very important people angry at me and it's all your fault. What made you think that was a good idea?"

"I don't... I didn't... I just did what you told me to do!" Enkaku stammered.

"Don't you try to blame this on me!" his father bellowed. "That was your idea and yours alone. Now you're going to take the punishment for it."

"No!" Enkaku protested. "I did what you wanted me to do! You told me to do whatever it took to get them out of the inn and I did. You can't blame me now that it didn't work like you thought."

"If you had put more thought into what you were doing..." his father bellowed.

The words poured over him. Enkaku cringed, wishing he could sink into the wallpaper and disappear. It was always like this. No matter what he did, it was never right, never enough. His mind went blank under the onslaught of words.

 _I have to get out of here. I have to make it stop. I can't stand this much longer..._

Automatically, his hand moved to touch the green ring. If he could just get a word in edgewise...

But it was already too late. His father, stopping to take a breath, had glanced down and caught that furtive movement. He snatched at Enkaku's hand.

"What is this ring?" he asked. "Where did you get it?"

"I, uh... I bought it," Enkaku stammered.

"Nonsense," said his father, and Enkaku wished he could work up the nerve to hit him. "No shop here in town ever had anything like this, and even if they did, you wouldn't have had the money for it. I saw you reach for it when you were arguing with the cook. Now you're reaching for it again. Why?"

"It's just... it's just a habit," Enkaku managed. "I just fiddle with it when I'm nervous, that's all."

"Don't you dare tell lies to me," his father snapped. "You've been acting strangely this last day or so - getting cocky and full of yourself. Something has changed, and it has something to do with this ring, am I right? The truth, now, or it will be the worse for you."

Enkaku's eyes burned. This wasn't fair. He'd been so _close_ to getting out.

 _I never should have come back home. I should have just had all those people arrested first thing, paid my dues to Uriya, and then gotten out of here. I'm so stupid..._

"I bargained with the crossroads god for it," he mumbled, defeated. "It's a magic ring."

"And it does... what?" his father asked.

"It makes it so you don't have to obey anyone. You tell someone 'I am my own master' and they'll let you do whatever you want." He hated himself for giving the secret away, but he couldn't seem to make himself stop. A magic ring was no match for a lifetime of habit.

His father's eyes widened.

"That is far too dangerous a thing for you to keep," he said. "You hand that over right now!"

"No!" Enkaku shouted, jerking his hand away. He balled his hand into a fist and cupped the other hand over it. "It's mine! I bargained for it! The god gave it to me!"

"Give it!" his father snapped. He grabbed for Enkaku's hand and tried to wrench the ring away. Enkaku struggled, fighting to escape his father's grasp, trying to escape. His back was against a wall, and his father was taller and wider than he was. Enkaku fought anyway, twisting and turning like a rat in a snare. The stairs were just a few paces away. If he could slip free, he could run away to his room and lock the door. He could climb out the window and escape. He could leave town. He'd have to give the ring back to Uriya, but that would be better than giving it up to his father...

"Give... it... here!" his father growled, and he struck. One of his big meaty hands swung backhand and hit Enkaku's cheek, and Enkaku lurched backwards, momentarily stunned. He leaned against the wall, ears ringing, eyes very wide. His father had never hit him before. Shouted at him, berated him, made him feel like dirt, but never _hit_ him. He was dazed as much with shock as from the blow. He was still standing there trying to comprehend what had happened when his father reached out, grabbed his hand, and twisted off the ring.

"There," said his father, breathing hard. "Now go to your room, and I hope you've learned your lesson."

Without waiting to see if his orders were being followed, the mayor turned and swept away, ring still clutched in his hand. Enkaku watched him go. For a few seconds, he just stood there, leaning against the wall, waiting for his heart rate to go back down. Despite the bruise he could feel forming on his cheekbone and the bare place on his finger where the ring had been, he still couldn't quite absorb the fact of what had just happened. It was only after some time had passed that his brain began working again.

His first thought was, _Great, now I'm never going to get out of here._

His second, slightly more broad-minded, thought was, _What is he going to do with that ring?_

Well, he knew the answer to that. His father was going to take matters into his own hands, throw everyone out of the Cloverleaf no matter what anyone said. After that... well, even if the ring only lasted for a month, he could probably find ways to make a lot of people's lives miserable, especially Enkaku's.

 _I need to find Uriya,_ he decided at last. This wasn't about him anymore. This was about the good of the whole town. Still moving shakily, he stood and started towards the door.

He was altogether too rattled to wonder why he caught a brief whiff of baking bread and cut grass without any obvious source.

* * *

The service was going well. Kinshiro, lurking unobtrusively behind the bar, watched the proceedings and thought that it was a shame that Atsushi wasn't here to see it. That bothered him. Atsushi had wanted to be there - assured Kinshiro that he _would_ be there. Whatever was keeping him, it must have been important. Kinshiro trusted that Atsushi could look after himself, but all the same, he hoped that nothing had gone too badly wrong.

Still, he told himself, this service was as much for the good of the townspeople as it was for Atsushi. It had begun with the new priest reciting a prayer and drawing the congregation into a call-and-response. Then one of the local musicians played a hymn, with lyrics hastily adapted from an old folk song. Then Endou had delivered a rousing sermon. Now the service was winding down, and the congregation was enjoying complimentary food and drinks as they socialized. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood, although whether that was anything to do with the quality of the cobbled-together service, because they were putting something over on the pompous mayor, or whether they were just happy about the free food and beer. At any rate, they seemed content, and that was probably what Atsushi would want.

He was jarred from these pleasant thoughts by the waft of grass and baking bread scent that meant Atsushi was near. He glanced up and saw his husband standing there, but the expression on Atsushi's face was one Kinshiro had never seen before. Atsushi had always been the gentlest and most forgiving of people - it was how he'd gotten his job, after all - so seeing him in a genuine rage was unsettling.

"Atsushi, what's wrong?" Kinshiro asked, muting his voice so that the other people in the room couldn't hear him.

"Mayor Sousa stole a ring from his son," Atsushi said. "He _hit_ him."

"Who hit who? Start from the beginning," Kinshiro replied.

Atsushi took a deep breath, visibly making an effort to calm himself.

"Enkaku admitted that he made a bargain with the crossroads god for a magic ring," said Atsushi. "It makes it so people can't tell him what to do. The mayor caught him using it, guessed that it must be magic, and forced him to tell him how to work it. Then the mayor hit Enkaku and wrenched the ring away, and I think he's probably coming here next."

Kinshiro hissed with annoyance.

"Thanks for the warning," he said. "I'm familiar with such rings. They're nothing but trouble, but it's against the rules for me to ban them."

"We ought to get everyone out of here," said Atsushi. "Before Mayor Sousa gets here and starts using it on people."

"Right you are," said Kinshiro. He smiled a little. "Perhaps its time for you to make your official debut."

A moment later, one of the guests happened to glance over his neighbor's shoulder to see a curious sight. A green glow was gathering over the table they had been using as an impromptu altar. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. The light was still there, larger and brighter than ever.

"Hey," he said to his companion, "would you look at that?"

The other people at the table turned to look as well. The light continued to grow, taking on a definite shape. All around the room, people were pointing and exclaiming. Behind the bar, Kinshiro smiled. It seemed his beloved husband knew how to make a proper entrance.

The green glow took on the form of a human man. It was only visible as lights and shadows, but it was still plainly a person. It spoke.

"I am Epinard, god of mercy," he said in quiet tones. "Thank you all for coming here tonight. I appreciate your willingness to be here for me. Now it's my turn to help you. Mayor Sousa is on his way here right now, and he is planning on having you all removed from here - by force, if necessary. I don't want you to try to stop him. He's stolen a magical item, and he may use it against you. You've done so much for me already - now it's time for you all to go find safety and leave me here to protect you."

It was a reasonable speech, Kinshiro thought. Even so, it took some time for the dazzled crowd to get over the fact that they were seeing and hearing an actual god and begin to process what he'd said. It took Endou and Arima working together to get them in motion, but within seconds, everyone had been cleared either out the front door or sent to the upper floors. Finally, there was only Atsushi, Kinshiro, Arima, and Endou left.

"What do we do now?" Arima asked.

"I think," said Atsushi slowly, "that we wait, and then we give him a little surprise..."


	7. On Trial

"Uriya!"

The voice cut through Uriya's thoughts as if someone had shot an arrow through him. He sat up with a jolt, looking reflexively around his room even though he knew the source of the call was coming from far away. Up until that point, he'd been relaxing in his home in the Heavenly City. It was a nice house, really. He wasn't important enough to merit one of the enchanted chambers in the Palace itself, but the houses that surrounded the Palace were nice, too. This one was furnished in a jumble of furniture from different styles and eras, reflecting the occupant's indecisive nature, but the whole of it created a comfortably unpretentious ambiance. Up until the moment he'd heard that cry, Uriya had been lounging on one of the mismatched sofas, gazing out at the garden and reveling in the sense of a job well done. Enkaku had seemed happy, anyway, and so far there had been no sign that Aurite had noticed what Uriya had been doing - or at least, if he had, he wasn't bothered by it. Uriya was willing to count that as a win in his book. He had just been starting to relax and think his plans were actually going to work for a change, but...

"Uriya, please!" the voice begged. "I don't have anything to bargain with, but I really need your help. Please..."

In a flash, Uriya had vaulted off his sofa and flung himself across the room. He vanished before he had reached the other side. He had the sense of the world tilting, his forward lunge becoming an upward rise without having to reorient himself. He shot out of his well like a bolt from a crossbow and dropped lightly onto the ground in front of it.

"What do you..." he began.

He was cut off by having someone throw themself at him. He staggered backwards, and just barely avoided falling down the well. Not that it would have harmed him, since he would have just fallen back to the safety of his home, but it would have been disconcerting for the person clinging to him.

"Hey," he said. "Calm down. What's wrong?"

Enkaku - for it was Enkaku, he realized - sniffled and pulled back a little. Uriya's eyes widened as he saw the bruise forming on Enkaku's face. He was willing to bet the boy hadn't just fallen down the stairs.

"What happened?" Uriya asked again, and this time he couldn't keep the anger from his voice.

Enkaku flinched. "It wasn't my fault!"

"I know." Uriya forced himself to calm down. "I know it wasn't your fault. I'm here to help. What happened?"

"It was my father," said Enkaku. "He saw me using the ring and guessed what it did. He took it from me." He didn't elaborate exactly how it had been taken, but his fingers strayed to his bruised cheek.

"Demon's blood!" Uriya swore. That was the last thing he wanted to happen. He began pacing back and forth, arms folded behind his back as he tried to concentrate. "Okay, okay. Do you have any idea what he's planning to do with it? Is he planning to do _anything_ with it, or is he sitting in his room gloating? Please tell me he's sitting in his room thinking about all the fun things he can do with a magic ring."

Enkaku shook his head. "I think he's probably going to the inn. Someone came over to tell him to stop trying to shut it down, and he got really angry about it. He blamed me for doing everything wrong, but I was only trying to do what he wanted..."

"You didn't do anything wrong," Uriya assured him, though whether or not that was true, he really had no idea anymore. "If anyone is in the wrong here, it's me. I never should have given you that ring. I should have thought of some other way to get you out of here safely. I should have known it would only lead to trouble. I shouldn't have asked you for the Cloverleaf. There are plenty of other things around here that would have done just as well..."

He trailed off, realizing Enkaku was staring at him.

"Sorry," said Uriya. "I'm not making a very valiant protector, am I?"

"You're the best I've got," said Enkaku.

 _Not much of a friend,_ Uriya thought. He was the one who had gotten Enkaku into this fix, and he'd done it all _knowing_ it would land him in trouble. He'd told himself it was an acceptable risk. He should have known better than to listen to himself. Now he was realizing that there was no way he could let anything happen to this boy who was the only person to pay him any attention in years, who had called him his best friend.

 _I won't let him get in trouble over this - not if I have to stand up to Aurite himself._

Which, he had to admit, was probably what was going to happen. He was no looking forward to it.

"Okay," he said, resigned. "We've got to get this sorted out. Come on."

He grabbed Enkaku's hand and began hauling him into town.

"Where are we going?" Enkaku asked, stumbling after him.

Uriya cast a look back over his shoulder.

"Where do you _think_ we're going?"

* * *

The inn was very quiet. That technically should not have been a surprise, since the inn was supposed to be deserted, but there were still plenty of signs that people had been there recently. The common room was littered with empty mugs, dirty dishes, strewn crumbs, and all the rest of the detritus that appeared when large numbers of people had been eating and drinking together. Now the only sign of life, at least as far as, say, a curious mayor peering through the front windows might see, was a lone busboy, slowly running a wet rag over the tabletops as if he had all the time in the world. In a sense, he did.

The door opened, and Mayor Sousa walked in. Kinshiro tried not to show his amusement. The man had obviously come to make a dramatic entrance, and was finding the lack of people to dramatize before mysterious and a little unsettling. Kinshiro could see him trying to make up his mind whether or not it was worth trying to strut and swagger for a single busboy. He was slightly hindered in his attempts at any sort of dignity by the fact that someone had dropped a chunk of bread in their haste to leave the building, and Mayor Sousa had just stepped on it. He was forced to lean on a table while he tried to pick clumps of dough off his boot. Kinshiro leaned on the back of a chair and watched him.

"Help you with something?" he asked laconically.

The mayor fixed him with a glare. "Where is everyone?"

Kinshiro shrugged. "How should I know?"

The answer, of course, was that he could find out exactly where everyone was as easy as thinking, but he'd long ago learned that while he couldn't actually lie, answering questions with questions was a good way to get around that problem.

"You know _something_ ," said Sousa, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"I know a lot of things," said Kinshiro. "I know the best way to get stains out of bed sheets. I know the secret ingredient in Atsushi's venison pies. I know all the lyrics to the Song of the Drunken Cobbler. Is any of that of interest to you?"

"Don't get smart with me, boy," said Sousa. "I'll ask you again. Where is everyone? Where is that meddling priest?"

"We've had several priests staying here these last few days," said Kinshiro calmly. "Which one do you want?"

"The one who calls himself Arima," Sousa snarled. "Get him out here. I want to have a word with him. And then I'm going to want to speak to Priest Itsumo and that old drunk Endou, but I'll start with Arima. Do you understand?"

"I understand," said Kinshiro. He stayed where he was, still running his rag over the tabletop with a total lack of speed and efficiency that would make En proud.

Sousa tapped his foot. "Well?"

"I understand," said Kinshiro. "I'm just not going to do what you say, that's all."

"Now, you listen to me, you little whelp," Sousa snapped. "I am the mayor here, and you are just the boy who washes the dirty tables. You _will_ do as I tell you, or I'll make you sorry."

"No," said Kinshiro calmly. "I think you won't."

"Well, in that case..."

Sousa raised one hand, and Kinshiro finally saw the odd green ring that glittered on one finger. A small frown creased Kinshiro's brow. He really should have noticed that before. He could actually smell, very faintly, the ripe melon scent of the god who had created it. No, wait, it wasn't just the ring...

Sousa took a breath, presumably to say the words that would activate the ring's powers, but even as he did so, he was distracted by the sound of racing feet outside. Sousa turned just in time to see the door open and two young men rushed in. One of them was Enkaku. The other was someone Kinshiro hadn't seen around here before but who he immediately recognized as a god. They both flung themselves at Sousa, shouting and wrenching at his arms, trying to pry the ring away from him. Kinshiro watched, more amused than alarmed.

 _I knew crossroads gods couldn't do much magic on their own without a bargain to sustain them. This is the first time I've seen it occur to any of them to just hit people._

All things considered, he was willing to let the two of them get in their licks. Kinshiro was a believer in letting humans deal with the immediate consequences of their own actions, and it looked like Atsushi had been right about Sousa hitting his son. A little recompense was in order.

It didn't last long. Sousa was bigger than either of the other two men. He managed to shrug off his son and shove him across the room. Enkaku stumbled backwards, tripped over a bench, and went sprawling. Uriya was harder to shake off, and there was quite a struggle before Sousa finally managed to pry him away. Even then, Uriya managed to tear off a chunk of the lining on Sousa's fancy collar when he was finally forced away, and even when the mayor was holding him at arm's length, he squirmed and kicked like a wild thing until Sousa threw him aside.

"That's enough from all of you," said Sousa. Dramatically, he held up the hand with the ring and declared, "I am my own master, and you all will stop trying to force me out of this inn."

Enkaku cringed and began muttering apologies. Uriya only looked confused and somewhat frightened as he glanced from Sousa to Kinshiro and back again.

"Um," he ventured, "that might not work the way you think it's going to. I really wouldn't..."

"Stow it," Sousa snapped. "You have to do what I tell you, do you understand?"

"No," said Kinshiro, "he doesn't, and neither do I."

He straightened up, dropping his dishrag and pulling himself to his fullest height. That still wasn't very tall, but all the same, Sousa took a step backwards, looking suddenly intimidated. Even in disguise, a god standing on his dignity was intimidating.

"Why aren't you listening to me?" asked Sousa, looking around in confusion. The ring was obviously working, at least on Enkaku, who was still cringing on the floor, but Kinshiro and Uriya still stood there more or less calmly. Well, Uriya didn't seem to be the sort who ever looked really calm, but Kinshiro was resolute enough for both of them.

"The ring doesn't actually work on us," said Uriya, almost apologetically. "It only works on mortals. Not on gods."

Sousa's eyes stood out. "On... _gods?_ "

"Few things do," said Kinshiro calmly. He began walking forwards, raking the assembled company with his eyes.

"But... you can't be," said Sousa. "I _know_ you. You worked here for months, scrubbing pots and making beds. You can't be a god."

"You'd be surprised who can be a god," said Kinshiro mildly. He held out his hand. "That ring, if you please, Mr. Sousa."

Sousa wavered. He looked at the ring, at Kinshiro, at Uriya and Enkaku, back at Kinshiro. He slowly curled his fingers, as if hoping he could still reclaim the situation. Kinshiro's frown deepened.

"All right," he said. "Enough of this silliness." Raising his voice, he called out, "You can come out now."

There was a flurry of motion. Arima emerged from the kitchen. Endou and Itsumo came down the stairs. Kinshiro waited. This had been Atsushi's idea, but if he wasn't up for it after all...

But then a green shimmer began in the air, growing and solidifying, until it was clearly visible as a human figure in glittering green robes. Kinshiro relaxed.

"Glad you could join us," he said, and let his own human disguise drop.

There were, not surprisingly, a few startled exclamations. It occurred to Kinshiro that he'd never actually let on to Priest Itsumo who the inn's busboy really was. Well, he'd apologize later. The truly interesting reactions were from Enkaku and his father. Enkaku had roused from his daze and was staring at Atsushi as if he couldn't decide whether this was salvation or something from which he should run screaming. Mayor Sousa was going several interesting shades of red.

"What - what is this?" he stammered. "You can't be here! You're dead!"

Atsushi sighed a little. "Am I going to get that reaction every time I show my face around here?"

"It will wear off eventually, I'm sure," said Kinshiro.'

Enkaku managed to pry himself off the floor. He took a few steps towards Atsushi, eyes wide.

"You're okay," he said. "I don't believe it... I thought you were gone for good..."

Atsushi smiled. "I'm fine, don't worry. I've just been kind of busy with some things, that's all."

Uriya edged forward, wringing his hands and chewing at his lower lip.

"Ah... Lord Aurite?" he began. "I know this looks bad, but if you'll just give me a chance to explain..."

"You'll have your chance," said Kinshiro calmly. "Just be patient. We have other things we need to sort out." His gaze shifted to Mayor Sousa, who tried to look as though he weren't intimidated.

"I want to know what all of this is about," he blustered. "Who are you?"

"I should think that would be obvious," said Kinshiro. "This is my new consort Epinard, god of mercy, previously known as Atsushi Kinugawa. I am Aurite, leader of the gods and judge of humanity, and I'm ready to come back from my vacation and get to work."

There was a long silence. It was broken by Itsusmo recovering himself enough to step over to Mayor Sousa, flash one of his rare smiles at him, and say, "I told you so."

* * *

It was rare for living mortals to enter the Hall of Judgment. Usually, when a mortal was judged by the gods, it was either done at the end of their lives, or it was done quietly from afar, without their knowledge. It was also unusual for a god to stand judgment - unusual, yes, but not unheard of. There had been that messy business with the short-lived god of politics, for example. As it had turned out, creating a god whose primary motivation was to accrue power at any cost and then lie glibly about it wasn't such a good idea. Uriya had never thought he'd do anything enormous enough to merit standing in this room. He didn't think he was very proud to have exceeded those expectations.

There were mortals in the room, too. Uriya tried to focus his attention on them, and comfort himself with the knowledge that at least one of them was probably in more trouble than he was.

Among the other humans attending was Aruite's pet priest Arima. That was a little surprising. Aurite did not usually get attached to his priests the way he'd gotten attached to this one. Even so, when the man had politely inquired as to whether he might be permitted to observe the proceedings, Aurite had readily given his permission. Now Arima sat in the stands with the air of someone who was taking mental notes. Also in the stands were several of the gods Uriya gathered were friends of Aurite and Epinard - Cerulean, Sulfur, Vesta, and Pearlite. They all seemed to be having a good time, as if this were all just another one of those diversions the gods created for themselves to help while away eternity. Uriya wished it was him up there and not down here.

Even so, he had almost managed to convince himself this all wouldn't be so bad - no one could prove he'd known any god had claimed that building before Uriya had made his bargain, he hadn't actually done anything directly - when he noticed Epinard looking at something over Uriya's shoulder.

"Oh, there you are," he said. "I was hoping you'd show up."

Uriya turned around to see two figures coming through the door to the audience chamber. They were fairly ordinary looking, or probably would be to mortal eyes: one a tall man in simple homespun clothing, his only really remarkable features being his red hair and the axe he carried in one hand, and the other a lively blond boy who scampered along beside him as if he thought they were going to a festival instead of a judgment. Uriya made a noise like a dying bird, and Enkaku turned to stare at him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Uriya pointed. " _They're_ here."

"Hm?" said Enkaku, staring at the two new arrivals. "But those are just the Hakone brothers. They work at the bathhouse." He paused. "They aren't gods too, are they?"

Uriya pondered if there was any way to answer this honestly without giving away one of the deepest secrets in the universe.

"Not... exactly," he said.

As they passed by, Yumoto paused to pat Enkaku and Uriya on their shoulders.

"Don't worry," he said cheerfully. "Brother and I know exactly what's going on."

"Not what I was worried about," Uriya muttered, but all the same, he felt a little better. No one had bothered to offer any reassurance to Mayor Sousa.

Eventually, all the witnesses settled in the stands. Uriya sat on his hands to keep from chewing his nails. Enkaku's face was the color of old cheese.

"It'll be okay," Uriya said, with as much conviction as he could muster. "This wasn't your fault. I'll tell them.

"It wasn't your fault either," said Enkaku with a wobbly smile. "I won't let them do anything to you either."

Uriya ducked his head.

 _Well, aren't we a wonderful pair? I don't think either of us can do anything about this._

A man in dark clothes who was probably one of Aurite's attendants stepped into the center of the room.

"This court will now come to order," he announced in a ringing voice. "Standing accused are Mayor Suguru Sousa; Enkaku Sousa, son of the aforementioned; and Uriya, guardian god of Binan. Mayor Sousa, please step forward."

With visible reluctance, Mayor Sousa took a few steps closer to the judges' bench, where Aurite and Epinard were watching him with grave expressions.

"Mayor Sousa," said Aurite, "you stand accused of willfully and knowingly defying the commands of the gods, of misusing your office as mayor, and of mistreating your son, who you forced into assisting with your plans to unlawfully seize the property known as the Cloverleaf Inn. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

The mayor's expression was indignant.

"Mistreating my son?" he repeated. "I never did any such thing! Everything I did was in his interests! I only wanted to ensure that he would have a secure future - a steady job with good prospects."

"I see," said Aurite dryly. "And that would be how he got that bruise on his face?"

Sousa reddened. "That was mere discipline. He's a willful child - he disobeys, he makes foolish mistakes. Its' a father's responsibility to bring him into line."

"I see," said Aurite again. "You may sit down. Enkaku Sousa, will you please step forward?"

Enkaku stepped forward, shaking, as his father retreated to one of the empty benches. Uriya almost lost his resolve not to bite his nails at that point, but Aurite only leaned back in his chair, clearly leaving this interrogation to his husband. Epinard leaned forward and folded his arms across the railing in front of him, looking very much as though he were still only Atsushi, relaxing on the bar as he listened to one of his patrons pour out their troubles to him over a pint of beer.

"Enkaku," he said gently, "why did you try to force us out of the Cloverleaf?"

"I didn't want to," said Enkaku. "It wasn't my idea."

"I know that," said Epinard gently. "We just want you to explain why."

"I wanted to get away from - from this town," Enkaku stammered. Uriya could hear the hastily edited out words "my father" hidden in that sentence. "I went to the crossroads god. He promised me that he'd help me, and that in return, I had to give him the inn. I still wouldn't have done it if I'd known you were still there."

"But you did know that it had been claimed by the gods," Epinard pointed out.

"I knew," said Enkaku, "but I guess I wasn't thinking about it very much. All I could think about was paying my debt so I could go. I'm sorry."

"That's good enough," said Epinard. "You can sit down now."

Enkaku heaved a sigh of relief and went to sit as far as possible from his father, who was shooting him irritated and faintly betrayed glances. Uriya swallowed hard. It was his turn now.

Aurite sat forward again. "Uriya, step forward."

Uriya took the few paces that brought him up to the judges' bench. Nothing had ever felt like such a long walk. Frantically, he scoured his mind for the words that would somehow explain away what he had done and make these people leave him alone.

"Uriya," said Aurite. "Enkaku says that you asked for the Cloverleaf Inn as payment for a service. Is that true?"

"Yes," said Uriya.

"Did you know at the time that my consort and I had already claimed the inn as holy ground?"

"Yes," said Uriya again. He wrung the hem of his robe in his hands.

"Was there a reason why you nevertheless chose to ask for the inn, rather than some other more appropriate payment?" Aurite continued.

"Yes."

Aurite leaned forward a little more, fixing his brilliant green eyes on Uriya. "Please tell us what that reason was."

Uriya took a deep breath. There was no point in lying, not to Aurite. He'd sniff out any attempt to dissimulate faster than a hungry wolf sniffed out a meal.

"Because I was jealous," he blurted. "Atsushi was a good human but he was still just a _human_. I didn't understand why you'd make such a big fuss over him, making him a god and then marrying him and giving him power to judge the rest of humanity. He was just an innkeeper who ran a good inn and served good beer and never really did much of anything anyone would notice. I was a god! I worked hard for generations to take care of my town and no one ever paid any attention to me. I was jealous of him and I wanted to have something he wanted just so someone would finally treat me like I was important for a change."

"So you're telling me..." Aurite began, but Uriya cut him off.

"Blame it on me!" he shouted. "It wasn't Enkaku's fault! He didn't know what it was all about! I didn't tell him! I used him and it was wrong and I feel awful so don't blame him! If you have to punish anyone, then punish me!" Lowering his voice, he added softly, hopelessly, "He's my friend - the only one I've got. Please don't punish him."

There was silence in the court. Aurite and Epinard glanced at each other, and some understanding seemed to pass between them.

"Your statement has been noted," said Aurite. "You may sit down."

Uriya shuffled over to an empty seat, drained and oddly exhausted, as if saying those words had taken everything he had out of him.

 _Maybe I shouldn't have mouthed off like that. Am I really going to be better off if he listens to me? What if I just annoyed him and he decides to punish both of us more because of what I said? Maybe I should have just stayed quiet. Aurite is supposed to be the perfect judge. Maybe he's going to think I'm acting like I know better than him by telling him how to hand out punishment. I'm probably just going to get into even more trouble. But I couldn't just stand there and say nothing, not when Enkaku might get punished for something that wasn't really his fault..._

With an effort of will, he clamped down on that line of thought. He'd done enough dithering in his lifetime. Tying himself into knots now wasn't going to help anybody.

The attendant stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"The judges," he proclaimed, "will withdraw to discuss their verdict."

Aurite and Epinard slipped out of sight through a back door. So, Uriya was unsettled to see, did Fate and Chance.

 _What do they need them for? This can't possibly be a big enough deal that they need to consult with Fate and Chance over it. It's a squabble over an inn, for crying out loud. What's going on here?_

"You okay?" asked Enkaku, moving to sit beside him.

"No," said Uriya. "I'm doomed. They're going to strip me of my title and throw me in the Abyss or something. I'm probably going to get eaten by a demon."

"It can't be that bad," said Enkaku.

"You have no idea," said Uriya. "Aurite isn't all that big on people who disobey him."

"It was nice of you to try to help me," said Enkaku. "Do you think I'm in big trouble too?"

"It's hard to tell," said Uriya. "Atsushi did most of the talking to you. I don't know what Aurite thought of any of it. But I couldn't just not try to stand up for you.. I haven't been much of a friend to you, but..."

"Is it true what you said?" Enkaku asked. "That you were just using me to get even with Atsushi - with Epinard?"

Uriya stared down at his hands, tangled in his poor wrinkled robes. "At first, yes. But I don't feel that way anymore. I don't want you to get in trouble over something stupid I did."

"It's okay," said Enkaku. "I can forgive you. I know what it's like to feel like nobody ever listens to you."

Uriya smiled a little. He was still at least half sure he was about to be cast out of the pantheon for good, but all the same, he felt a bit better.

The judges returned. Their expressions, from what Uriya could see of them, were almost humorous, as if whatever decision they had come to amused them. He wondered if that was a good sign or not. Aurite and Epinard settled into their chairs again, while the two brothers just leaned casually against the wall, watching with silent but evident approval.

"We have reached a verdict," said Aurite. "Mayor Sousa, please step forward."

The mayor approached, looking less sure of himself now that he was actually about to have his punishment handed down to him.

"Mayor Sousa," said Epinard, "we have found you guilty of conspiring against the will of the gods. Taking into account your defense, we have decided to be merciful. You're hereby forbidden to make any further attempts to seize control of the Temple of Epinard, formerly known as the Cloverleaf Inn. If you attempt to do this, or attempt to interfere with its functioning in any way, you will be punished. Do you understand?"

The mayor's face was dark. "I was only trying to do my duty as mayor. You should understand that. I was faced with an empty building, attracting squatters and looters and who knows what else, and I just wanted to secure it for the good of the town. Surely you can understand..."

He trailed off. Pearlite had slid off of his seat and was now sidling down the aisle to stand beside him. He smiled sweetly up at Sousa, who backed away a little in alarm. There were very few people, mortal or immortal, who could stand up to Pearlite when he smiled at them. Pearlite patted him on the arm.

"You," he said kindly, "are a very stupid man, and probably a poor mayor as well."

Mayor Sousa continued to gape at him. It was doubtful that he'd even understood what Pearlite said.

Sulfur came to the rescue.

"What my charming consort is trying to say," he cut in smoothly, "is that you are obviously overlooking the wider ramifications of what's going on here."

Sousa turned to look at him thoughtfully. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," said Sulfur, "that there are some wonderful opportunities ahead of you, if you're prepared to take advantage of them. Have you ever been to the City of Seven Pillars, for example? It's a thriving metropolis, one of the cultural centers of the world. The same with my city - even the poorest there have money to spare. As for Pearlite, his city was just a town like any other before he was born. Now it's the acknowledged leader in fashion - if you want clothing, jewelry, perfume, furniture, anything like that, it's the place to go. And now... now there is a new god, just getting started, and he's chosen to put his main temple in _your_ town. Do you understand what that means? It means that in the next few years, Binan is going to become a destination. People wanting to serve at the temple will move in. The families of people who want to work in the temple will move in. People who want to worship at the temple will move in. People who want to sell things to people who visit the temple will move in. You are about to see a wave of prosperity unlike anything you ever hoped for in your town. If you play your cards right, you are likely to become a very rich man."

"Though it wouldn't hurt to make a few offerings now and again," Vesta piped up from the stands.

"Yes... I see," said Sousa slowly. "I think I understand. Thank you."

He sauntered back to his seat with more of his usual confidence, and Uriya had to grit his teeth. This was wrong... this was completely wrong. He didn't care if Epinard was supposed to be the god of mercy. He couldn't just let Sousa off the hook after all the trouble he'd caused. It was simply unacceptable. For the man to cause so much trouble and still enjoy such a reward...

"Enkaku Sousa," said Aurite. "Please step forward."

Enkaku swallowed hard. Uriya gave his shoulder a quick, awkward pat before watching him walk hesitantly up to the judge's bench.

"Enkaku Sousa," said Aurite. "We find you guilty of participating in a conspiracy against the gods. Furthermore, we find you guilty of using magic to control mortals."

Epinard nodded. "In light of this and other aspects of the case, we've decided that you are to be banished from the town of Binan."

"Banished?" Enkaku squeaked.

"Yes," Aurite agreed. "When you return home, you will have until the next sunset to pack your things and leave. This will be a permanent, lifelong ban. You may write letters and messages, but you may never return."

 _Banished,_ Uriya thought, feeling gloom settle over him. So that was that. Enkaku was leaving Binan, and Uriya would be stuck in that little town alone. It really didn't seem fair. Of everyone here, Enkaku seemed the least guilty, so why...?

"This is preposterous!" Sousa roared, surging from his seat. "You can't take my son away from me!"

"Yes, we can," said Aurite coolly.

"But it isn't fair!" Sousa protested. He looked to Atsushi. "You're supposed to be the god of mercy. How can you let him do this to me?"

"This is mercy," said Epinard softly. "Cruelty would be making him stay."

Aurite fixed Sousa with his gaze. "There is no room to argue here. Had it been up to me alone, I would have undone everything you've ever worked for and left you begging in the streets. Instead, you are set to become rich beyond anything you ever hoped for. You may be remembered as Binan's greatest mayor - the man who guided it from being a sleepy little village to a mighty city. They may put up statues of you someday. But your line will end with you. You will never see your son again, and you will have no other children after him. After he leaves, he will change his name, and when you die, there will be no more Sousas in Binan - none of your bloodline, at least. Do I make myself clear?"

"But... you can't," Sousa pleaded. "He's my son. Everything I did. I did for him." He turned to Enkaku. "Tell them, boy - tell them they can't do this."

Enkaku wasn't even listening. He seemed to be looking at something miles and miles away.

"I... can leave?" he said softly. "I don't have to come back? Not ever?"

"Not ever," Atsushi assured him. "You're free."

"This is not fair!" Sousa bellowed.

Aurite almost smiled. He cast an affectionate glance at his husband

"That depends on your definition of fair," he said. "I'm tired of you now. Take him back to Earth."

He gestured at one of his attendants, and the man obligingly caught hold of Sousa's arm. The mayor was still bellowing as a cloud of golden light flared up around him, and they both disappeared.

"That takes care of that," said Aurite. He turned his attention to Enkaku. "What will happen next is a matter for the gods, not for mortals. We need to discuss what will become of your friend here. If you don't mind, I'll have one of my people escort you to somewhere you can wait in comfort."

Enkaku nodded. The gesture seemed to rouse him from whatever daze he'd been in, and he looked imploringly at Atsushi.

"Don't be too hard on him," he said. "You won't, will you?"

Atsushi smiled. "We haven't done too badly so far, have we?"

That seemed to reassure him. Enkaku cast one last look back at Uriya before allowing a black-robed woman to escort him away.

"Where did you take him?" Uriya blurted, and cringed. What a stupid thing to ask at a time like this.

"I sent him to one of the courtyards in the Palace," said Aurite. "He'll be safe enough there for a while."

Uriya was forced to agree that this was probably true. He might not live in the Palace of the Gods, but he had free access to its public areas, and he had spent his share of time exploring the many and varied courtyards, with their innumerable varieties of plants, pools, fountains, statues, lanterns, wind chimes, pavilions, and other ornamentation. Enkaku would probably enjoy his stay, and might not even realize he wasn't simply in a very fine Earthly garden.

"Anyway," Aurite continued, "we're done worrying about him for the moment. Now is the time to worry about you."

That seemed reasonable enough to Uriya. He worried about himself all the time, even when there was really nothing to worry about. He'd never had _this_ much to worry about.

"Come on over here where we can talk to you properly."

The command was issued casually, the way a friend might invite another to their table at the pub. All the same, the fact that it was coming from Fate himself made Uriya twitch. All the same, he gathered his courage and stood up to move closer.

"That's better," said Fate. "You can relax. The trial is over. This is an explanation."

"You aren't going to throw me in the Abyss, then?" Uriya asked. "Or... or turn me into something?"

The question seemed to strike Chance as funny. He began to giggle. His brother shushed him gently, but Fate, too, was smiling faintly.

"Let's not worry about that," said Atsushi, smiling. "We've got some other things to talk about first. Hello, Uriya. It's nice to finally meet you. Sorry I never realized you were there before."

"That's all right," Uriya heard himself saying. It was hard to say anything else to someone who was so plainly sincere.

"So," said Aurite. "You say you were angry about Atsushi here becoming a god?"

"Well, yes," Uriya mumbled. "It didn't seem fair. He's a human. Not even a very important human. I mean, at least Pearlite was somebody interesting. Um, no offense," he added, glancing at Atsushi.

"None taken," Atsushi assured him.

"You're kind of right," said Chance. "He is pretty ordinary. That was kind of the point."

Fate stirred himself from where he'd been lounging against the wall. Now he came over to stand directly in front of Uriya. It dawned on Uriya that he'd never been this close to the god of all gods before. His knees shook a little with the desire to step back.

"Do you understand why Epinard exists as he does?" Fate asked, with surprising gentleness.

"Um... kind of?" Uriya offered. "He's suppose to keep Aurite from being too harsh, right?"

"Something like that," said Fate. "He's here to provide balance. He is, in a sense, the human ambassador to the gods, here to represent their point of view and plead on their behalf. No god could do that. Even some famous human - a king or a priest or a great warrior - wouldn't do the job so well as an ordinary, humble human being who is familiar with their day-to-day struggles. It had to be somebody like Atsushi. Do you see?"

"I think so," Uriya admitted, and he thought he did.

"All the same," said Fate, "I think you raise a good point about the nature of crossroads gods. It sounds like you've been working under unfair conditions. We might have to rethink some things." He smiled wryly and ran a hand through his hair in what Uriya would have called embarrassment in anyone else. "See, the thing is, this is the first universe I've ever made. Sometimes I don't always get stuff right, so thanks for helping me figure this out."

"Oh," said Uriya, blushing. "Um."

"Be that as it may," said Aurite, "there is still the matter of your punishment. Jealousy, even justified jealously, is no excuse for working directly against a fellow god."

Uriya cringed. "I know. Do what you have to do."

"At least you seem properly repentant," said Aurite, nodding approval. "That always helps. In this case, I don't think you'll find your punishment too onerous. You may even find it educational."

"What do you mean?" Uriya asked suspiciously.

"He means," said Atsushi, "that the four of us talked it over, and we agreed that since you and Enkaku were mostly working together, the two of you can share your punishment. You're going to be banished from Binan."

"What?" Uriya squeaked. "Leave Binan? But I can't..."

"We'll arrange it so you can," Fate assured him. "And you won't be banished forever. Just for the span of a single human lifetime. We're going to let you live as a mortal for a while, so you can see what it's like. Perhaps you'll be less envious of Atsushi here when you've seen life from his perspective."

Chance nodded. "And you'll be company for Enkaku. He doesn't know what's out there, either. You two can look after each other."

"You don't have to travel together," said Atsushi, "but you can if you want to."

"Thank you," said Uriya. It seemed so inadequate, but what was there to say? This was the strangest and most wonderful punishment he'd ever heard of. He was going to get out of Binan and see something of the world. He wasn't going to have to say goodbye to Enkaku. Next to that, having to become mortal didn't seem like any sort of punishment at all.

"I'm glad we've got that sorted," said Aurite briskly. "Is there anything else we need to take care of?"

"Well," said Atsushi thoughtfully, "has everyone had dinner yet?"


	8. The Way Home

A small crowd had gathered in the sanctuary of the Temple of Epinard - the room that had been, a few days ago, the common room of the Cloverleaf Inn. There wasn't much difference to see, Atsushi observed. The room was in slightly better repair, thanks to the army of carpenters that had been in and out all week, but it still had the same homely comfort. There was the same fire burning in the fireplace, the same beer on tap and the same food in the kitchen, and the same - well, almost the same - chattering crowds around the tables.

Atsushi and his friends were throwing a small party. Most of their divine friends had elected to come, which limited the number of mortals they could invite as well, but there was still a respectable showing. Arima was there, of course, trying to reassure Itsumo that this was all very ordinary, really, nothing to get stressed about. Shou was taking it all rather better, perhaps because he didn't have a professional stake in the matter, and for the last half hour or so had been having a pleasant chat with Io about ways to improve his salesmanship. Endou sat across from Arima, trying to clear up a few last-minute matters of the priesthood before they went their separate ways. At the other end of the table, Ryuu and Akoya were earnestly discussing clothes with a wide-eyed Kurotori. It was a little strange to Atsushi to see Gora and Yumoto sitting and eating together. They had been friends of his for a long time, but it had only just occurred to him that he'd never actually seen them as customers before. He wasn't even certain he'd ever seen Gora set foot inside the building.

The guests of honor, such as they were, sat side by side at the coveted place nearest the fire. Uriya, in his usual manner, had been torn between trying not to offend his host by refusing food and trying not to look greedy by taking everything that came his way, with the end result that he'd taken a long time to eat very little. Atsushi rather suspected that the only thing that had convinced him to stop dithering long enough to eat anything was that Enkaku kept pushing dishes towards him and saying, "Here, try some of this!"

 _I think they'll be good for each other,_ Atsushi thought, and had to laugh at himself. Clearly Ryuu was becoming a bad influence on him. Still, it was nice to think that these two would be looking after each other when they left Binan.

"Do you need anything else?" Atsushi asked.

Enkaku pushed the crust of his sixth beef-and-mushroom hand pie around on his plate.

"That was plenty, thanks," he said. "I'm really going to miss these when we're gone. Nobody else could ever make them like you do."

Considering how much of making them had involved using godly powers to facilitate the cooking process, Atsushi felt that was a fair comment.

"I'll make another batch for you guys to take with you," he promised. "And I'll try to check in on you guys once in a while, to make sure you're both okay."

"You should offer them your blessing," Yumoto prompted, from around a mouthful of buttered bread.

"Oh," said Atsushi. "How do I do that?"

"Just say it," said Yumoto. "As long as you say it and mean it, it'll stick."

"All right, then," said Atsushi. He turned back to Enkaku and Uriya. "You have my blessing, then. For whatever that's worth."

"Possibly more than you think," said Gora. He was looking at Atsushi with a thoughtful gaze that Atsushi found mildly unsettling. "It's always a surprise when mortals become gods. We never quite know how they're going to turn out. No matter what they were uplifted for, parts of their original personality carry over and influence the way their powers develop. Haven't you noticed by now that some of the things you can do don't fit neatly under the heading of 'god of mercy'? Feeding the hungry might be a merciful act, but that doesn't quite explain how you can pull ingredients out of empty cupboards and make a single potato feed ten people."

"I hadn't really thought about it," Atsushi admitted. "There was just so much else going on... I guess I figured it was just god stuff and didn't worry about it."

"Well, I can't be sure," said Gora, "but I'm pretty sure what we've got here is a case of 'you can take the innkeeper out of the inn, but you can't take the inn from the innkeeper'. I think there's some aspect of your powers that's still tied to a desire to take care of people. I suppose that makes you a sort of god of hospitality."

Atsushi turned that thought over in his mind. He began to smile.

"I think I like that," he said.

Yumoto nodded. "With your blessing on them, it will be safe for them to travel, because they'll always be able to find shelter and food and stuff wherever they go. It'll help them a lot."

"In that case, you _definitely_ have my blessing," said Atsushi. "Be safe out there, and find welcome wherever you choose to go."

He felt it take, the way he'd felt the pieces of the wooden jigsaw puzzles he'd played with as a child when they slipped into their proper places.

"Thanks a lot," said Enkaku sincerely.

"We're probably going to need it," Uriya added.

Atsushi realized that someone had been watching this exchange for some time now. He turned around to see that Shou had approached him in his usual unobtrusive fashion.

"Can I help you with something?" Atsushi asked. "Do you and Itsumo need a getting-home-safe blessing too?"

"No. Well, maybe," said Shou, blushing slightly, "but that's not why I came over. It's just... well, they were saying you were the god of mercy, right? And then they were saying you were the god of hospitality too?"

"Apparently," said Atsushi. "I'm still a little new to this whole 'god' thing myself, so I'm sort of picking it up as I go along."

"I understand," said Shou. "I was just thinking... well, my family has never really served any god in particular, so I'm not sworn to anybody, but you seem like you're in charge of things that are really important. I wondered if maybe you'd let me be your first devotee?"

Atsushi was slightly surprised. Devotees weren't members of the priesthood, but simply ordinary people who chose to devote themselves to a particular god, agreeing to follow their laws in exchange for their blessings. Atsushi had accepted that he would be gaining priests, but the idea that anyone would be so interested in him that they'd choose to devote themselves to him above all other gods...

"It isn't that I don't respect Aurite," Shou added quickly, with a glance at his husband. "Don't get me wrong. I know we couldn't manage without him, but..."

"I don't mind," said Itsumo, looking thoughtfully from Kinshiro to Atsushi and back. "It seems quite... appropriate, actually."

"In that case," said Atsushi, "I'd love to have you as a devotee. Just talk to Endou before you go home - he's got the list of rules written up."

Shou went off to follow this advice, looking pleased with himself.

"Aww, that was nice," said Yumoto. He looked to his big brother. "Hey, we should have someone who does that."

"Does what?" Gora asked.

"Helps people find where they need to be," Yumoto elaborated. "Bringing people to the right gods and workers to employers and servants to masters. And the other way around too, I guess. Like Ryuu does but more with loyalty than romance."

"A sort of god of devotion?" Gora murmured. He gazed thoughtfully across the room, to where Arima was still chatting with Endou. "That's not a bad idea. We'll work on it."

Yumoto, satisfied with that answer, turned his attention back to his dessert. Enkaku regarded the two brothers speculatively.

"Who are they really?" he asked Atsushi.

Atsushi just smiled. "They're our friends. That's all any of us need to worry about."

Gradually, the meal wound down. Gora and Yumoto politely wished everyone a good night and good luck, and ambled back to their bathhouse. The various other gods took their leave and vanished back to whatever work or leisure they had been pursuing before the trial. Arima and Endou went upstairs to continue their theological discussion. Shou and Itsusmo returned to their room to enjoy one last free night before returning to their work and their family. Uriya and Enkaku graciously accepted the offer of rooms for the night and went to rest up for their big journey in the morning. Kurotori flitted off to visit his burly carpenter friend, saying something about wanting to discuss building a new gazebo on his property. Atsushi got the sense that when Kurotori went home, the carpenter would be going with him. Oh well, that was something for Ryuu to worry about. For now, the inn was quiet, and everyone in it was content. Atsushi wandered around the common room, putting out the lamps and cleaning up crumbs.

 _I really do love this place,_ he thought. He was glad to know that he'd be leaving it in good hands, that it would be doing good work even if it wasn't the purpose it had originally been built to serve. The old Cloverleaf Inn was changing, but it was becoming something grander and better than it had been before, just like the man who had last owned it.

"What are you thinking?" Kinshiro asked, coming up behind him.

"That I'm really glad we came here and did this," said Atsushi. "Everything turned out really well, don't you think?"

"I think you're right," he agreed. "We did good work."

"I know," said Atsushi. "This place is always going to mean a lot to me. I'm glad it's safe... but I think now I'm ready to go home."

Kinshiro put his arms around him. "I'm glad to hear you say that. The Heavenly City is your home now, too, and I want you to be happy there... but if you want, we can stay here one more night."

Atsushi turned around to face his husband. "You mean that?"

"I do," Kinshiro agreed. "After all, it is traditional to go somewhere nice on your honeymoon. I can't think of anywhere nicer than this, can you?"

Atsushi beamed and hugged Kinshiro.

"Nowhere better," he agreed.

And together, they went up to his room, on more time.

* * *

Epilogue - Two Years Later

* * *

Atsushi yawned and stretched as the attendant carried out a large stack of notes.

"Please tell me that was the last of them," he said.

"We're all done," Kinshiro assured him, carefully setting his pen into its special holder. "At least for today."

"There's always more coming," Atsushi agreed, "but I hope you'll forgive me when I say I am done making decisions for today. Let's think about something else for a while."

"I'm agreeable to that," said Kinshiro, in his usual solemn manner. "What would you like to do?"

"Can we look in on Binan and see how everyone is doing?" Atsushi asked.

Kinshiro gave him a tolerant smile. "You could do that yourself."

"I know," said Atsushi, "but it's easier when you do it for me."

Anyone else making such a suggestion would have gotten a lecture on industry, motivation, and the perils of laziness. Kinshiro only smiled, shook his head, and moved a clear glass prism from the corner of his desk to sit in a beam of sunlight. The light refracted into an image on the far wall - not a rainbow, but a clear moving picture of a lively town on the side of a mountain. Atsushi could just barely recognize the shape of his old home in this prosperous place. The image zoomed in, swooping past houses and shops that hadn't been there when Atsushi was a child, and settled at last on the Temple of Epinard. The construction on it had been finished, and the old inn was neatly integrated into a newer, larger building. People were going in and out, some seeking spiritual solace, others just in search of a good meal and some of the legendarily high-quality beer. The image continued to close in, moving through the windows and into the temple itself. At one of the tables, Atsushi could see Endou's wife - a plump, rosy-cheeked woman with a motherly nature - pressing a bowl of soup on a hollow-cheeked young woman. Over at the bar, Endou appeared to be doling out advice to a young man with tear-reddened eyes. The Temple of Epinard was the haven of all those who had come to the end of their ropes, a place where they could find a hot meal, a listening ear, some good advice, or a shoulder to cry on, whichever they needed most.

Kinshiro gave the prism a spin, and the scene changed. Now they were looking into a lavishly furnished study, all soft rugs, polished furniture, and handsome leather-bound books. Atsushi recognized the place. When Binan's economic boom had begun, the mayor had moved into a larger, grander house, suitable to his new status. He was sitting at his desk now, perusing a letter. Time had changed him, too. He had put on weight, and the vest that enclosed his expanded middle had real gold buttons on it. Yet despite these signs of prosperity, his face was more deeply lined than it had been two years ago, and there was more gray in his hair. His shoulders slumped in a way they hadn't when he'd been just the mayor of a tiny mountain village. In short, he looked the very picture of a man who had gotten everything he'd ever wanted and wasn't sure the price had been worth it.

The image pivoted, so that they were looking over his shoulder at the letter in his hand. It was a very battered letter, much folded, dog-eared, and crinkled in a way that suggested it had gotten wet at least once. It seemed to be the last page of a longer missive, beginning in mid-sentence:

"...spent a week just wandering around the Great Library. I never imagined there were so many books in the whole world, but Uriya says the library in the Palace of the Gods is even bigger, and he'll show me someday. We managed to get a place in a caravan heading west, so by the time you get this, we'll probably be on our way to the Endless Mountains. I really want to see the Jade Emperor's palace and the Cataracts of the Moon. We're planning on being on the other side of the mountains by autumn, so we can spend the winter in Candlehearth.

"Hope you and Mother are well, and that everything is going smoothly in Binan. Yes, I think of you often, and no, I still don't want to come home. Still having a wonderful time."

It was signed simply, _Enkaku,_ , no family name. The mayor finished reading the page, then simply sat and stared at it.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Sir?" said a muffled voice outside. "The trade committee is waiting for you. Should I tell them to wait?"

"No, no," said the mayor. "I'll be right there."

Even so, he sat there for a few more seconds, staring down at the paper in his hand, before finally leaving the room.

"Well," said Atushi, as the image faded, "I think he's learned his lesson, don't you?"

"I think so," Kinshiro agreed. "All the same, I don't feel inclined to lift the banishment, do you?"

Atsushi shook his head. "It sounds to me like those two are quite happy where they are."

"Where are they, anyway?" Kinshiro asked. "The last time I thought to check in on them, they were in the City of Rivers, visiting En's temple and riding gondolas."

Atsushi laughed. "You read the letter - they're trying to get across the Eternal Mountains. Actually, I think they may have already made it to the other side, by now. That letter has been a long time in transit."

"Well, let's have a look and see," said Kinshiro, always the practical one.

He gave the prism another turn. The image on the wall changed, showing a road curving through a vast wilderness of scrub and red rock. Strolling down the road were two young men. They were a ragged-looking pair, their clothing patched and faded by the elements. The men themselves weren't much better, with their shaggy hair and weather-beaten faces. All the same, they looked healthy and hardy, moving with the ease of men who were used to walking and could walk a lot further before they finally gave up the hike. They trudged side by side, laughing and chatting, up the slope of a steep rise, and when they reached the top, they paused to take in the view.

And it was quite a view. Stretched out below them was a city, carved from the red rock of the desert around it. Many of the buildings were roofed with polished copper tiles, and in the setting sun, the whole of it glowed red as an ember. In the more shadowed parts of the city, people were already beginning to light lamps and candles, adding a flickering, dancing light beneath the sun's steadier blaze.

"We made it," said Uriya. "This is Candlehearth."

"It's beautiful," Enkaku murmured. He turned to flash a smile at his companion. "I'm so glad I got to see this with you."

Uriya gave him a look of tolerant amusement. "You always say that. About everything."

"Well, this is special," said Enkaku, blushing a little. "I mean, it's Vesta's holy city. It's the sort of place you ought to go with... you know, someone special."

The two of them were silent after that, but the look that passed between them was the kind that spoke more than words. When they started walking again, it was with a quicker pace than they'd set before, as if there was something in that city they couldn't wait to get to. Atsushi noticed with a smile that they were running hand in hand.

"Is that what you meant when you said Enkaku was going to give up his family name?" he asked, as the image faded. "Does Uriya even _have_ a family name?"

"What sort of question is that to ask?" Kinshiro huffed.

Atsushi laughed. "You're as bad as Ryuu."

"I resent your implication," said Kinshiro. After a pause, he added. "Anyway, I was a newlywed then. A few romantic fancies are excusable in times like those."

"I agree completely," said Atsushi, still chuckling. He leaned his head on Kinshiro's shoulder. "I love you."

Kinshiro, not good with terms of endearment, didn't say anything, but he put his arm around Atsushi's shoulders and gave him a comforting squeeze.

Their moment was interrupted by a rap on the door. A moment later, the office door swung open, and En peered through the door.

"Are you two done yet?" he asked. "Your guy said you were done with work for the day. What are you doing hanging around an office if you don't have to do any work?"

"Just talking about things," said Atsushi.

"Well, how about talking about them downstairs?" En suggested. "You promised you'd have dinner with us, remember?"

"We'll be right there," Atsushi promised.

He pushed himself up from his chair, and after a resigned pause, Kinshiro got up and followed. Atsushi only smiled. This was his life now - his husband, his friends, and his work of trying to make the human condition just a little happier, and he wouldn't have given up any of it for anything.

He was, he thought, truly glad to be home.


End file.
